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As I swing, as I swing,

Here beneath my mother’s wing,

Here beneath my mother’s arm,

Never earthly thing can harm.

Up and down, to and fro,

With a steady sweep I go,

Like a swallow on the wing,

As I swing, as I swing.

As I swing, as I swing,

Honey-bee comes murmuring,

Humming softly in my ear,

“Come away with me, my dear!

In the tiger-lily’s cup

Sweetest honey we will sup.”

Go away, you velvet thing!

I must swing! I must swing!

As I swing, as I swing,

Butterfly comes fluttering,

“Little child, now come away

’Mid the clover-blooms to play;

Clover-blooms are red and white,

Sky is blue and sun is bright.

Why then thus, with folded wing,

Sit and swing, sit and swing?”

As I swing, as I swing,

Oriole comes hovering.

“See my nest in yonder tree!

Little child, come work with me.

Learn to make a perfect nest,

That of all things is the best.

Come! nor longer loitering

Sit and swing, sit and swing!”

As I swing, as I swing,

Though I have not any wing,

Still I would not change with you,

Happiest bird that ever flew.

Butterfly and honey-bee,

Sure ’t is you must envy me,

Safe beneath my mother’s wing

As I swing, as I swing.

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