The dan-de-lion blos-soms gay
From the fields have passed away,
And in their place left heads of grey.
Now, Min-nie, won't it be good fun
For each of us to ga-ther one,
And sit and blow them in the sun?
Very hard we both must blow,
And scat-ter all the seeds like snow,
That will be 'one o'clock,' you know."