Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of peasant 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. 'Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe; Sing thy songs of happy cheer!' So I sang 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 I made a rural pen, And I stain'd the water clear, And I wrote my happy songs Every child may joy to hear.