Piping down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of pleasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a child,
And he laughing said to me:
"Pipe a song about a Lamb!"
So I piped with merry cheer.
"Piper, pipe that song again;"
So I piped: he wept to hear.
And the Grace is on
Makes all the grief be gone
"Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe;
Sing thy songs of happy cheer!"
So I sung the same again,
While he wept with joy to hear.
"Piper, sit thee down and write
In a book, that all may read."
So he vanished from my sight,
And I plucked a hollow reed,
And the Grace is on
Makes all the grief be gone
Drunk with ecstasy
And I made a rural pen,
Fresh after victory
And I stained the water clear,
Dance and harmony
And I wrote my happy songs
Carried them whispering
Every child may joy to hear.
And the Grace is on
Makes all the grief be gone.
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