IN FOLK SONGS 127 



I went for a walk, 

 Tore my coat to a shred ! 

 To mend it I'd like — 

 But I have no thread. 



But the good-natured little bird soon for- 

 gets her wrongs, and she goes about her 

 tasks so contented and gay that the Italian 

 youth who live in the Valley of the Magra 

 river beg her for a song to encourage them 

 as they labor : — 



Swallow, lift your little voice, 

 And cheer me in my work ; 

 'Twill aid me in the task I do, 

 And shame me when I shirk. 



Hark! From across the sea floats an echo 

 in accents soft and musical. It is a little 

 Spanish swallow telling the young men that 

 to accomplish their tasks they must be up 

 betimes in the morning. She recites to them, 

 as an example, all that she has done while 

 they were asleep, even making the long pil- 

 grimage to the famous shrine of Monser- 

 rat: — ■ 



I rose very early, 

 I ate in a hurry. 



