Alice's Supper

ALICE'S SUPPER.

• Far down in the valley the wheat grows deep,
  And the reapers are making the cradles sweep;
  And this is the song that I hear them sing,
  While cheery and loud their voices ring:
  "'Tis the finest wheat that ever did grow!
  And it is for Alice's supper—ho! ho!"
• Far down by the river the old mill stands,
  And the miller is rubbing his dusty hands;
  And these are the words of the miller's lay,
  As he watches the millstones grinding away:
  "'Tis the finest flour that money can buy,
  And it is for Alice's supper—hi! hi!"
• Downstairs in the kitchen the fire doth glow,
  And cook is a-kneading the soft, white dough;
  And this is the song she is singing to-day,
  As merry and busy she's working away:
  "'Tis the finest dough, whether near or afar,
  And it is for Alice's supper—ha! ha!"

• To the nursery now comes mother, at last,
  And what in her hand is she bringing so fast?
  'Tis a plateful of something, all yellow and white,
  And she sings as she comes, with her smile so bright:
  "'Tis the best bread and butter I ever did see,
  And it is for Alice's supper—he! he!"