(_A VACATION CANTATA._)
_Master George (stretching forth his fingers to feel if the shower is
abating) sings_:-- Rain! Rain!
Go away!
Come again
Another day!
_Master Arthur_ (_gloomily_). Pooh! Rain won't go away, not in these
times,
By being sung at to old nursery rhymes:
Especially in such a voice as yours!
_Master George._ Needn't be nasty, ARTHUR!
_Master Robert._ How it pours!
Thought we were going to have a real jolly day,
And now it's set in wet, to spoil our holiday.
_Master George._ Always the way at Easter. Shall we trudge it?
_Master Arthur._ Not yet. What have you got, GEORGE, in your Budget?
_Master George._ Not very much, I fear!
_Master Arthur._ Ah, that's vexatious!
It might have cheered us up a bit.
_Master George_ (_indignantly_). Good gracious!
You're always down on me, with no good reasons.
You know _I_'m not the ruler of the Seasons.
Now if I'd been in _your_ place--but no matter!
_Master Robert._ By Jingo, how the raindrops rush and clatter!
Ah, Primrose-gathering is not half so jolly
As once it used to be.
_Master Arthur._ Ah! my dear SOLLY,
The springs are now so awfully wet and cold,
The "cry" don't seem so fetching as of old.
[_Pipes up._
_Recitative_. "_Who will buy my pretty, pretty Pri-im-ro-o-ses!_
_All fresh gathered from the va-a-a-ll-ey?_"
_Master George._ The wet and cold have got into your throat,
A quaver and a crack on every note!
_Master Robert._ Don't aggravate each other, boys; 'tis wrong,
But while it rains _I_'ll tootle out a song:--
(_Sings._) The days we went a-Primrosing!