The Poppies Blooming all around
My Herbert loves to see,
Some pearly white, some dark as night,
Some red as cramasie;
He loves their colours fresh and fine
As fair as fair may be,
But little does my darling know
How good they are to me.
He views their clustering petals gay
And shakes their nut-brown seeds.
But they to him are nothing more
Than other brilliant weeds;
O how should'st thou with beaming brow
With eye and cheek so bright
Know aught of that blossom's pow'r,
Or sorrows of the night!
When poor mama long restless lies
She drinks the poppy's juice;
That liquor soon can close her eyes
And slumber soft produce.
O' then my sweet my happy boy
Will thank the poppy flow'r
Which brings the sleep to dear mama
At midnight's darksome hour.
