Merry Milly Mollycot

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    Merry Milly Mollycot,
    Upon the first of May,
    Shook out her sheets and swept the floor
    And then was heard to say,
    “My work is done, I’ll do no more;
    I’m tired of toil and taskets.
    I’m off into the forest lands
    To make some May Day baskets!”
    And off she went a-tripping light
    Where trees stood all around,
    And various things and sundry
    Were growing from the ground.
    She took some bark, she took some moss,
    She took some leaves and tendrils;
    She took some threads from fern fronds
    And tender willow bendrils.
    And these she wove this way and that
    And shaped them square and rounded,
    Then piled them high with posies sweet
    That in the grass she founded.
    Then Merry Milly Mollycot,
    She hung her baskets high
    Upon the lamp posts of the town
    Where every passerby
    Could see them and admire them
    And say with smiling eyes,
    “These must be Merry Milly’s work—
    A First-of-May surprise!”
    Merry Milly Mollycot,
    She grinned a Cheshire grin
    And chuckled so her dimples
    Kept ducking out and in.
    Then up she danced a hornypipe
    And sang, “I am the lady
    Who made these bits of handiwork
    To welcome in sweet May Day!”
    And then she bowed and curtsied,
    Turned a cartwheel on the spot,
    While all the people laughed and cheered
    For Milly Mollycot.

    [illustration] Illustrated by Phyllis Luch