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.