HaveyougotaBrookinyourlittlehear

Have you got a Brook in your little heart,

Where bashful flowers blow,

And blushing birds go down to drink,

And shadows tremble so --

And nobody knows, so still it flows,

That any brook is there,

And yet your little draught of life

Is daily drunken there --

Why, look out for the little brook in March,

When the rivers overflow,

And the snows come hurrying from the fills,

And the bridges often go --

And later, in August it may be --

When the meadows parching lie,

Beware, lest this little brook of life,

Some burning noon go dry!

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