Grace
I have a little Raven
Who brings me my dinner,
Her tresses are raven,
May she never grow thinner,
She brings me my dinner –
But not by a brook.
She feeds me, she scolds me,
She scolds me, she feeds me,
I’m a hungry old sinner,
She brings me my dinner,
She cooks it in the kitchen
Beside a cookery book.
From a Garden in the Antipodes (Sidgwick & Jackson, 1929)
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