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