Page:A Book of Nursery Rhymes.djvu/119

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MOTHER STORIES

97

"They say the balloon
Is gone up to the moon!"

Blow, wind, blow! and
go, mill, go!
That the miller may
grind his corn;
That the baker may take
it,
And into rolls make it,
And send us some hot
in the morn.

Evening red and morning gray
Sets the traveller on his way.

When the wind is in the east,
'T is good for neither man nor beast;
When the wind is in the north,
The skilful fisher goes not forth;
When the wind is in the south,
It blows the bait in the fishes' mouth.
When the wind is in the west,
Then't is at the very best.