What shall I do when the Summer troubles --What, when the Rose is ripe --What when the Eggs fly off in MusicFrom the Maple Keep?What shall I do when the Skies a'chirrupDrop a Tune on me --When the Bee hangs all Noon in the ButtercupWhat will become of me?Oh, when the Squirrel fills His PocketsAnd the Berries stareHow can I bear their jocund FacesThou from Here, so far?'Twould'nt afflict a Robin --All His Goods have Wings --I -- fly notfly notdo not fly, so whereforeMy Perennial Things?