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FOLK-SONGS OF LOWER BRITTANY. 201
Toutouie la, la, my little bird,
In the sweet breast of thy rose tree.
To fly to heaven, my little angel, Do not spread your little wing.
There is also the element of infantile humor, as in all nursery songs, to bring smiles to the rosy cheeks, with food for the simple imagination opening its eyes on the birds and beasts around it, and endowing them with human life. One can feel how a child would appreciate the little story of The Fox Gallant with a sense at once of reality and humor: —
THE FOX GALLANT.
I had a pullet and I had but one, • A fox carried her off, and now I have none.
The fox has carried her off from the sill of my door, And more than that, I think, he has done me disgrace.
But I perceive Jean le Ri and also Herod, And I ask them, have you not seen my pullet.
And I pass my head out of the front room window. I see my pullet, who on the village green is dancing,
And the fox by her side with a Flanders basket; With pears and with apples he is treating my pullet.
Next to cradle songs, the creations of motherly affection, come the songs of youthful passion, when |
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