The gardener does not love to talk,
He makes me keep the gravel walk;
And when he puts his tools away,
He locks the door and takes the key.
Away behind the currant row,
Where no one else but cook may go,
Far in the plots, I see him dig,
Old and serious, brown and big.
He digs the flowers, green, red, and blue,
Norwishes to be spoken to.
He digs the flowers and cuts the hay,
And never seems to want to play.
Silly gardener! summer goes,
And winter comes with pinching toes,
When in the garden bare and brown
You must lay your barrow down.
Well now, and while the summer stays,
To profit by these garden days
O how much wiser you would be
To play at Indian wars with me!
园丁
我们的园丁不爱说话，
他让我守在沙砾路边；
然后，他把工具放下，
锁上门，就带着钥匙走远。
在那红醋栗树丛后面，
只有厨师会去的地点，
我远远看见了挖土的他，
苍老、严肃、黝黒、高大。
他种着绿花、红花、蓝花，
不想要别人跟他说话。
他整天种花、锄草，
好像从不需要玩耍。
傻园丁啊！等夏天走了，
冬天踮着脚尖来到，
花园里草木凋谢，
你也得让手推车睡觉。
哦，享受这花园时光吧，
趁现在夏天还没有离开。
跟我玩印第安人打仗，
你会变得聪明又可爱！
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