Near where I live there is a lake 
As blue as blue can be, winds make 
It dance as they go blowing by. 
I think it curtseys to the sky. 

It's just a lake of lovely flowers 
And my Mamma says they are ours; 
But they are not like those we grow 
To be our very own, you know. 

We have a splendid garden, there 
Are lots of flowers everywhere; 
Roses, and pinks, and four o'clocks 
And hollyhocks, and evening stocks. 

Mamma lets us pick them, but never 
Must we pick any gentians -- ever! 
For if we carried them away 
They'd die of homesickness that day.