Twelve small songs for small people

Mr. Turnip sat sighing,
And this was his moan:
"Those tiresome young rabbits
Won't leave me alone.

They nibble and nibble
On this side and that, —
They think I've no feeling
Because I'm so fat".

So sighed the poor turnip,
With tears in his eyes—
"Oh, would that those rabbits
Were made into pies!"

A wee little star lived up in the sky,
     Ever so high, up, ever so high;
And the way it kept blinking,
You couldn't help thinking,
Up there in the sky, it wanted to cry;
      Up ever so high, up, ever so high.

But this same little star, who lived up in the sky.
     Ever so high, up, ever so high,
Was just playing "bo-peep",
With a boy half asleep
Who thought he could spy a hole in the sky,
     Up ever so high, up ever so high.