The further the little girl leaped and ran
The further she longed to be
The white white fields of jonquil flowers
Danced up as high as her knee
And flashed and sparkled before her eyes
Until she could hardly see
So to the wood went she.

It was quiet in the wood
It was solemn and grave
A sound like a wave
Sighed in the tree tops
And then sighed no more
But she was brave
And the sky showed through
A bird egg's blue
And she saw
A tiny path that was running away
Over the hills to who can say —
She ran too.
But then the path broke
Then the path ended
And wouldn't be mended.
And wouldn't be mended.
A little old man
Sat on the edge
Hugging the hedge
He had a fire
And 2 eggs in a pan —
And a paper poke
Of pepper and salt
So she came to a halt
To watch and admire
Cunning and nimble was he!
May I help if I can little old man?
Bravo he said
You can dine with me
I've two old eggs
From 2 white hens
And a loaf from a kind ladie
Some fresh nutmegs
Some cutlet ends
In pink and white paper frills
And — I've — got
A little hot pot
From the town between the Hills.
He nodded his head
And made her a sign
To sit under the spray
Of a trailing vine.
But when the little girl joined her hands
And said the grace she had learned to say
The little old man gave 2 dreadful squeals
And she just saw the flash of his smoking heels
As he tumbled tumbled
With his two old eggs
From 2 white hens
His loaf from a kind ladie
The fresh nutmegs
The cutlet-ends
In the pink and white paper frills
And away rumbled
Little hot-pot so much too hot
From the town between the hills.