Dear Miss Potter,
Did you wish for a daughter?
Would you tell me, please, how you fare?
For spring is nigh
and I fear that I
like the lambs have nothing to wear, to wear.
Like the lambs, I have nothing to wear.
Dear Miss Potter,
If I were your daughter,
I should know very well how you fare.
Summer is come.
Hark! The mid-summer's drum
beats for dancers with nary a care. No care!
Beats for dancers with nary a care.
Dear Miss Potter,
If I were your daughter,
Would you paint me a cloak to wear?
For autumn is nigh
and I fear that my
arms like the branches are bare, so bare.
Arms like the branches are bare.
Dear Miss Potter,
I wish I were your daughter.
Please tell me now how you fare.
For winter is here
and I hear there is cheer
to be found at your hearth so dear, so dear.
To be found at your hearth so dear.
Did you wish for a daughter?
Would you tell me, please, how you fare?
For spring is nigh
and I fear that I
like the lambs have nothing to wear, to wear.
Like the lambs, I have nothing to wear.
Dear Miss Potter,
If I were your daughter,
I should know very well how you fare.
Summer is come.
Hark! The mid-summer's drum
beats for dancers with nary a care. No care!
Beats for dancers with nary a care.
Dear Miss Potter,
If I were your daughter,
Would you paint me a cloak to wear?
For autumn is nigh
and I fear that my
arms like the branches are bare, so bare.
Arms like the branches are bare.
Dear Miss Potter,
I wish I were your daughter.
Please tell me now how you fare.
For winter is here
and I hear there is cheer
to be found at your hearth so dear, so dear.
To be found at your hearth so dear.
___________________________________
(I just realized today that Beatrix Potter and I share a birthday. She was born July 28, 1866, more than one hundred years before me. My first storybook cottage will be named Castle Farm Cottage, after her home in the Lake District. Now, if only I could paint like she did...)
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