When it wasn't but One penny.

And now that's gone; and I don't care.

I'd rather not have any,

Than keep it, if an Angel came

And asked me for my penny.

[Pg 44]

The Green Singing-Book

 don't know how to read the words,

Nor how the black things go.

But if you stand it up, and sing,

You never have to know.

The music sounds alike each time

When grown-up people play;

But every time I sing, myself,

It sounds a different way.

And when I've sung the book all through,

And every page, around,

I stand it upside down and sing,

To see how that will sound.

I sing how all the things outside

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