Three of us afloat in the meadow by the swing,
Three of us
abroad in the basket on the lea.
Winds are in the air, they are blowing in the spring,
And waves are on
the meadow like the waves there are at sea.
Where shall we adventure, to-day that we're afloat,
Wary of the
weather and steering by a star?
Shall it be to Africa, a-steering of the boat,
or Babylon or off to Malabar?
Hi! but here's a squadron a-rowing
on the sea--
Cattle on the
meadow a-charging with a roar!
Quick, and we'll escape them, they're as mad as they can be,
The wicket is
the harbour and the garden is the shore.