Classic Poem

One, two, three.
Coming, Old Trouble, coming.
The organ-grinder is turning,
The children are sing-songing,
The organ-grinder is stopping,
The children are hum-coming,
Coming, Old Trouble, coming.

One, two, three.
Coming, Old Trouble, coming.
The bakeshop is sugar-crusting,
The children are window-tasting,
The bakeshop is shop-shutting,
The children are sugar-dreaming,
The children are sugar-stealing,
Coming, Old Trouble, coming.

One, two, three.
Coming, old Trouble, coming.
Father Bell is evening-praying,
The night is empty-falling,
The rats are out,
The birds are in,
Coming, Old Trouble, coming.

One, two, three.
One, two, three.
Coming, Old Trouble, coming.
Somebody's dead, who can it be?
Old Trouble, is it you?
Then say so, say so.
One, two, three,
Into the great rag-bag you go.
Going, Old Trouble, going.