Under the haycocks fast asleep -
While the crickets sing in the clover beds,
And the white, small daisies nod their heads,
And the will-o'-the-wisp looks after the sheep!
He dreams so softly - our Little Boy Blue,
And the cornfields rustle their silken leaves,
Where floats the web that the spider weaves,
And the sunshine flickers the long day through.
Oh, Little Boy Blue! The cow's in the corn,
And the sheep in the meadow are straying afar;
They may roam till the rise of the last wee star,
For they wait till they hear you blow your horn.
But Little Boy Blue dreams on all day.
He has traveled away on a May-fly's wing
To hear all the chimes that the bluebells ring
In the elfin dale where the fairies play.
Shall we awake him? No, not I!
For a Pixie sits on a cornflower there,
And he shakes his wand with a warning air
When a noisy wren or a bee goes by.
The will-o'-the-wisp will tend his sheep;
The brownies will watch the rustling corn,
While our Little Boy Blue with his silent horn
Lies under the haycock fast asleep.