Where do all the daisies go? I know, I know! Underneath the snow they creep, Nod their little heads and sleep, In the springtime out they peep; That is where they go! Where do all the birdies go? I know, I know! Far away from winter snow, To the far, warm south they go, Where they stay till daisies blow; That is where they go! Where do all the babies go? I know, I know! In the glancing firelight warm, Safely sheltered from all harm, Soft they lie on mother's arm; This is where they go! |