The sun, with his great eye, 
Sees not so much as I ; 
And the moon, all silver, proud, 
Might as well be in a cloud. 

And the spring -- the spring ! 
I lead the life of a king ! 
Couch'd in the teeming grass, 
I spy each pretty lass. 

I look where no one dares, 
And I stare where no one stares, 
And when the night is nigh, 
Lambs bleat my lullaby.