PETER PATTER told them to me,<br />All the little rimes,<br />Whispered them among the bushes<br />Half a hundred times.<br /><br />Peter lives upon a mountain<br />Pretty near the sun,<br />Knows the bears and birds and rabbits<br />Nearly every one;<br />Has a home among the alders,<br />Bed of cedar bark,<br />Walks alone beneath the pine trees<br />Even when it’s dark.<br /><br />Squirrels tell him everything<br />That happens in the trees,<br />Cricket in the gander-grass<br />Sings of all he sees;<br />Rimes from bats and butterflies,<br />Crabs and waterfowl;<br />But the best of all he gets<br />From his Uncle Owl.<br /><br />Sometimes when its day-time,<br />But mostly in the night,<br />They sit beneath an oak tree<br />And hug each other tight,<br />And tell their rimes and riddles<br /<br />Where the catty creatures prowl—<br />Funny little Peter Patter<br />And his Uncle Owl.<br /> - Summary by Leroy F. Jackson
