Let him come to the fire,
Let us build it up higher,
Let us give the poor man a warm seat.

The poor man is weak;
How pale is his cheek!
Perhaps he has met with some sorrow;
Let us give him a bed,
Where his poor weary head
May rest, and feel better to-morrow.




DING DONG! DING DONG!


Ding dong! ding dong!
I'll sing you a song;
'Tis about a little bird;

He sat upon a tree,
And he sang to me,
And I never spoke a word.

Ding dong! ding dong!
I'll sing you a song;
'Tis about a little mouse;
He looked very cunning,
As I saw him running