There once was a bird that lived up in a tree, And all he could whistle was "Fiddle-dee-dee" - A very provoking, unmusical song For one to be whistling the summer day long!
Yet always contented and busy was he With that vocal recurrence of "Fiddle-dee-dee."
Hard by lived a brave little soldier of four, That weird iteration repented him sore;
"I prithee, Dear-Mother-Mine! fetch me my gun, For, by our St. Didy! the deed must be done That shall presently rid all creation and me Of that ominous bird and his 'Fiddle-dee-dee'!"
Then out came Dear-Mother-Mine, bringing her son His awfully truculent little red gun;
The stock was of pine and the barrel of tin, The "bang" it came out where the bullet went in - The right kind of weapon I think you'll agree For slaying all fowl that go "Fiddle-dee-dee"!
The brave little soldier quoth never a word, But he up and he drew a straight bead on that bird;
And, while that vain creature provokingly sang, The gun it went off with a terrible bang!
Then loud laughed the youth - "By my Bottle," cried he, I've put a quietus on 'Fiddle-dee-dee'!"
Out came then Dear-Mother-Mine, saying: "My son, Right well have you wrought with your little red gun!
Hereafter no evil at all need I fear, With such a brave soldier as You-My-Love here!"
She kissed the dear boy.
(The bird in the tree Continued to whistle his "Fiddle-dee-dee")
OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY
Over the hills and far away, A little boy steals from his morning play And under the blossoming apple-tree He lies and he dreams of the things to be: Of battles fought and of victories won, Of wrongs o'erthrown and of great deeds done - Of the valor that he shall prove some day, Over the hills and far away - Over the hills, and far away!
Over the hills and far away It's, oh, for the toil the livelong day!
But it mattereth not to the soul aflame With a love for riches and power and fame!
On, 0 man! while the sun is high - On to the certain joys that lie Yonder where blazeth the noon of day, Over the hills and far away - Over the hills, and far away!
Over the hills and far away, An old man lingers at close of day;
Now that his journey is almost done, His battles fought and his victories won - The old-time honesty and truth, The trustfulness and the friends of youth, Home and mother-where are they?
Over the hills and far away - Over the years, and far away!
