D Down, down the hill how swift I go!
Over the ice, and over the snow;
A horse or cart I do not fear.
For past them both my sled I steer.
Hurra! my boy! I'm going down,
While you toil up; but never frown;
The far hill-top you soon will gain,
And then, with all your might and main,
You'll dash by me; while, full of glee,
I'll up again to dash by thee!
So on we glide—O, life of joy;
What pleasure has the glad school-boy!
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