THE SWING

Hey, the old swing! And ho! the old swing! And hey, the old swing in the orchard! It groans and it creaks, It squawks and it squeaks, You’d think ’twas most cruelly tortured.

Hey! the old swing, And ho! the old swing, All under the apple trees swaying: “Oh dear! how they shake me! They surely will break me!” It seems to be constantly saying. Hey! the old swing, And ho! the old swing; For all its lamenting and sighing, Just give it a push, And it’s off with a rush, Up into the apple-boughs flying. Hey! the old swing, And ho! the old swing; It’s off and away with a will now; Old swing, stop your moaning, Your dreary o-honing! I’m sure you’re enjoying it still, now!