THREE of us afloat in the meadow by the swing,
⁠Three of us aboard 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,
⁠To Providence, 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.