The Message to the Fish

In winter, when the fields are white,
I sing this song for your delight—

In spring, when woods are getting green,
I’ll try and tell you what I mean.

In summer, when the days are long,
Perhaps you’ll understand the song:

In autumn, when the leaves are brown,
Take pen and ink, and write it down.

I sent a message to the fish:
I told them “This is what I wish.”

The little fishes of the sea
They sent an answer back to me.

The little fishes’ answer was
“We cannot do it, sir, because—”

I sent to them again to say
“It will be better to obey.”

The fishes answered, with a grin,
“Why, what a temper you are in!”

I told them once, I told them twice:
They would not listen to advice.

I took a kettle large and new,
Fit for the deed I had to do.

My heart went hop, my heart went thump;
I filled the kettle at the pump.

Then some one came to me, and said,
“The little fishes are in bed.”

I said to him, I said it plain,
“Then you must wake them up again.”

I said it very loud and clear;
I went and shouted in his ear.

But he was very stiff and proud;
He said, “You needn’t shout so loud!”

And he was very proud and stiff;
He said, “I’d go and wake them, if—”

I took a corkscrew from the shelf:
I went to wake them up myself.

And when I found the door was locked,
I pulled and pushed, and kicked and knocked.

And when I found the door was shut,
I tried to turn the handle, but—