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For the cuckoo sings till the greenwood rings, And it is the month of May!" Then the men at the table all waved their pewter pots, and thumped upon the board, roaring, "Hey, trolly-lolly! oh, to live is to be jolly!" until the rafters rang. Hey! lad-die, hark, to the mer-ry, mer-ry lark, How high he sing-eth clear.
Dem guys is swells, too, bet yer life, an' der old 'un stacks dem sacks of dough down under his trotters like dey was common as dried apples. Been shoppin' for Chrismus, and de kid's lost one of her new socks w'ot she was goin' to hold up Santy wid. De bloomin' little skeezicks! Wit' her 'Mer-ry Chris-mus! W'ot d' yer t'ink!
The tramp picked it up, and found it to be a new black silk stocking, long and fine and slender. It crunched crisply, and yet with a luxurious softness, between his fingers. "Ther bloomin' little skeezicks!" said Whistling Dick, with a broad grin bisecting his freckled face. "W'ot d' yer think of dat, now! Mer-ry Chris-mus! Sounded like a cuckoo clock, da'ts what she did.
O a morn in Spring is the sweeter thing That cometh in all the year; O a morn in Spring is the sweet-est thing That com-eth in all the year! REFRAIN. Piano. Ring! Ting! It is the mer-ry Spring-time. How full of heart a bod-y feels! Sing hey trol-ly lol-ly! O to live is to be jol-ly, When Spring-time cometh with the Summer at her heels! God save us all, my jol-ly gen-tle-men!
As the surrey swept even with the sidetracked tramp, the bright-eyed girl, seized by some merry, madcap impulse, leaned out toward him with a sweet, dazzling smile, and cried, "Mer-ry Christ-mas!" in a shrill, plaintive treble. Such a thing had not often happened to Whistling Dick, and he felt handicapped in devising the correct response.
We'll mer-ry be to-day; For the cuc-koo sings till the greenwood rings, And it is the month of May; For the cuc-koo sings till the greenwood rings, And it is the month of May! "What, lad!" cried good Dame Davenant, "come, stay with me all year and sing, thou and this little maid o' thine. 'Twill cost thee neither cash nor care.
"Oh, nuttin' 't all," said Whistling Dick, lounging carelessly, and kicking meditatively at a little stone on the ground. "Just as easy," continued the warbling vagrant softly to himself, "an' sociable an' swell an' sassy, wit' her 'Mer-ry Chris-mus, Wot d'yer t'ink, now!" Dinner, two hours late, was being served in the Bellemeade plantation dining-room.
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