By William Brighty Rands
Seven sweet singing birds up in a tree;
Seven swift sailing-ships white upon the sea;
Seven bright weather-cocks shining in the sun;
Seven slim race-horses ready for a run;
Seven gold butterflies flitting overhead;
Seven red roses blowing in a garden bed;
Seven white lilies, with honey-bees inside them;
Seven round rainbows with clouds to divide them;
Seven pretty little girls with sugar on their lips;
Seven witty little boys, whom everybody tips;
Seven nice fathers to call little maids joys;
Seven nice mothers to kiss the little boys
Seven nights running I dreamt it all plain;
With bread and jam for supper I could dream it all again!
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