They had one seat in a mossy nook,

They learned their lessons from one old book,

And played together by lane and brook.


At home or abroad, in house or lawn,

When holidays reigned, or school came on,

‘Twas ‘’Sisier Mary and Brother John.’’


They feared not the sun that made them brown,

They cared not for winter’s frosty frown,

Nor minded how fast the rain came down.


Parting was all their fear and dread;

Father and mother both were dead,

And left them little, the neighbours said.


But Mary and John had laid a scheme

For future days when their fortune came,

And they were playing the grown up game.


They would have a cottage of their own,

With roses, and woodbine overgrown,

And the largest fig-tree ever known.


There they would live their whole lives through,

And watch how the figs and roses grew;

I wonder if it all came true!


For far from our village they have gone,

And none can tell us how things go on

With ‘’Sister Mary and Brother John.’’