I'm a pretty little thing,
Always coming with the spring;
In the meadows green I'm found,
Peeping just above the ground,
And my stalk is cover'd
With a white and yellow hat.
Little Mary, when you
Lightly o'er the tender grass,
Skip about, but do not
On my bright but lowly head,
For I always seem to say, "Surely winter's gone away."
