One, two, three

It was an old, old, old, old lady,

And a boy who was half-past three;

And the way that they played together

Was beautiful to see.

She couldn't go running and jumping,

And the boy, no more could he;

For he was a thin little fellow,

With a thin little twisted knee.

They sat in the yellow sunlight,

Out under the maple tree;

And the game that they played I'll tell you,

Just as it was told to me.

It was Hide-and-Go-Seek they were playing,

Tho' you'd never have known it to be-

With an old, old, old, old lady,

And a boy with a twisted knee.

The boy would bend his face down

On his one little sound right knee,

And he'd guess where she was hiding,

In guesses One, Two, Three!

"You are in the china closet!"

He would cry and laugh with glee-

It wasn't the china closet;

But he still had Two and Three.

"You are up in Papa's big bedroom,

In the desk with the queer old key!

And she said: "You are warm and warmer;

But you're not quite right," smiled she.

"It can't be the cedar closet

Where Mama's things used to be-

So it must be the cupboard, Gran'ma!"

And he found her with his Three.

And they never stirred from their places,

Right under the maple tree-

This dear, dear, dear old lady,

And the boy who was half-past three.