Under a tree, and by a well,
There stands a cottage in yonder dell;
Within that cot live children there,
Such children did you never see.
They quarrel at meals, they quarrel at play,
They quarrel, I’m told, both night and day;
For every-one wants every-thing,
And peace from the house has taken wing.
Their voices have got the quarrellers tone,
Their faces to quarrellers looks have grown;
Then lest you come to lead their life,
Brothers and sisters cease from strife.