Seated on the village wharf,

Where the steamers come and go,

Skipper Bailey spins and spins,

Ending always, “Don’t you know?”

By the dear old kitchen hearth,

Briskly walking to and fro,

Grandma, singing, spins and spins,—

Years ago ’twas always so.

O’er a cave in time of Bruce,

Now in attic corners high;

What is it that spins and spins?

Ah, be wary, little fly!

Out along the country road,

Over hills and through the vale,

Brother Johnny spins and spins,

In the early morning pale.

’Mid balls and blocks and Noah’s Ark,

Playing on the parlor floor,

Willie, laughing, spins and spins,—

Round it turns, then tumbles o’er.

Think now of these outs and ins,

Then tell what each spins and spins.