Blossoms
Little baby blossoms
Swinging in the trees,
Laughing at the daisies,
Kissing all the bees.
Little baby blossoms
Are very sweet and small,
But Mother’s little blossom
Is sweeter than them all!
Little baby blossoms,
Dress in white and pink,
Holding cups of honey
For the bees to drink;
But Mother’s little blossom
Has eyes, and nose, and chin,
With the sweetest little dimple
To tuck the kisses in!
Every baby blossom
Swinging gaily there
Grows into an apple,
Or perhaps a pear;
But Mother’s little blossom,
Deny it if you can,
Will wear a coat and trousers,
And grow into a man!