The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well.
Then soon with the emblem of truth overflowing, And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well. - Samuel Woodworth
Then soon with the emblem of truth overflowing, And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well.
- Samuel Woodworth
How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view. - Samuel Woodworth
How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view.
How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection recalls them to view; The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wildwood,… - Samuel Woodworth
How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection recalls them to view; The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wildwood,…
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well. - Samuel Woodworth
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