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I cannot tell liow this may be,
WE ARE SEVEN,
A simple child, dear brother Jim,
I met a little cottage girl,
She had a rustic, woodland air,
Her beauty made me glad.
“ Sisters and brothers, little maid, “ How many may you be ?" “How many seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me.
“ And where are they, I pray you tell ?" She answered, “ Seven are we, “ And two of us at Conway dwell,
“ And two are gone to sea.
* Two of us in the church-yard lie,
" You say that two at Conway dwell,
Then did the little Maid reply,
“ You run about, my
little maid, “ Your limbs they are alive ; “ If two are in the church-yard laid, “ Then ye are only five."
“Their graves are green, they may be seen,"
“ My stockings there I often knit,
My 'kerchief there I hem; “And there upon the ground I sit « I sit and sing to them.
«. And often after sunset, Sir,
“ The first, that died was little Jane ;
“ So in the church-yard she was laid, “ And all the summer dry,
Together round her grave we played, “ My brother John and I.
“. And when the ground was white with snow, « And I could run and slide,
My brother John was forced to go, “ And he lies by her side."