The Cock who soundly sleeps at night,
Rises with the morning light,
Very loud and shrill he crows;
Then the sleeping ploughman knows,
He must leave his bed also,
To his morning work to go.
And the little Lark does fly
To the middle of the sky;
You may hear his merry tune
In the morning very soon;
For he does not like to rest,
Idle, in his downy nest.
While the cock is crowing shrill,
Leave my little bed I will,
And I'll rise to hear the Lark,
For it is no longer dark;
'Twould be a pity there to stay,
When 'tis light and pleasant day.
[Illustration]