Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn.

The sheep's in the meadow,

the cow's in the corn.

Where is the boy that looks after the sheep?

'He's under the haystack, fast asleep.'

Will you wake him? 'No, not I;

For if I do, he'LL surely cry.'

'Blow, wind, blow! And go, mill, go!,'

Blow, wind, blow! And go, mill, go!

That the miller may grind his corn;

That the baker may take it,

And into rolls make it,

And send us some hot in the morn.