THE GIRL AND HER SWEEP There are all sorts of wonderful things a person might see very early in the morning You might see your parents sleeping You might see an ambitious bird catching a worm You might see an unclaimed penny on the sidewalk or the first rays of dawn And if you are very very lucky you might even catch a glimpse of the girl and her Sweep Look Here they are now approaching through the early fog a thin man with a long broom over one shoulder the end bobbing up and down with every step And trailing behind him pail in hand a little girl who loves that man more than anything in the world The girl sticks to the man like a shadow If he hops over a puddle she hops too If he skips along a rail she does the same It is clear just by looking looking at them that the little girl belongs to the man just as the man belongs to the little girl And as they pass between sleeping houses they sing at the top of their lungs With brush and pail and soot and song A sweep brings luck all season long
