And ere he blew three notes

(such sweet

Soft notes as yet musician's cunning

Never gave the enraptured air)

There was a rustling,

that seemed like a bustling

Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling,

Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering,

Little hands clapping and little tongues chattering,

And, like fowls in a farm-yard when barley is scattering,

Out came the children running.

All the little boys and girls,

With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls,

And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls.

Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after

The wonderful music with shouting and laughter.