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All F#min the golden afternoon full Aleisurely we glide
For Bboth our oars, with little skill, by Dlittle arms are plied
WhileF#m little hands make vain preteAnce our wanderings to guide
Our wBanderings tDo guide
Ah, F#mCruel Three ! in such an hourA, beneath such dreamy weather
To beBg a tale of breath too weak to stir Dthe tiniest feather
Yet wF#mhat can one poor voice avail Aagainst three tongues together
AgainBst three tongues togDether
AnonF#m, to sudden silence won, in fAancy they pursue
The dBream child moving through a land of wDonders wild and new
In frF#miendly chat with bird or beasAt - and half believe it true
And hBalf believe iDt true
And F#mever, as the story drained thAe wells of fancy dry
And fBaintly strove that weary one to put tDhe subject by
"The F#mnext time -- it is next time"A the happy voices cry !
The hBappy voices Dcry !
ThusF#m grew the tale of wonderland,A thus slowly one by one
It's Bquaint events were hammered out - andD now the tale is done
And hF#mome we steer a merrAy crew
BeneaBth the setting Dsun.
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