Red Apple

The big Sky-man that makes the Moons,

Stuck one into our Apple tree;

I saw it when I went to Bed;

The Tree was black; the Moon was red,

And round as round could be.

To-day I went to get that Moon,

For I can climb the Apple-tree;

The Moon was gone. But in its stead

I found an Apple round and red,

And nice as nice could be.