I. Summer Evenings, When It's Warm, In The Yard We Sit And Swing: And It's Better Than A Farm, Watching How The Fireflies Swarm, Listening To The Crickets Sing, And The Katydids That Cry, "Katy Did N'T! Katy Did!" In The Trees And Flowers Hid. So I Ask My Father, "Why? What's The Thing She Did N'T Do?" For He Told Me That He Knew: "Katy Did N'T Like To Worry; But She Did So Like To Talk; Gossip Of Herself And Talk; Katy Did N'T Like To Hurry; But She Did So Like To Walk; Saunter By Herself And Walk. How Is That Now For A Story?" Ii. And One Night When It Was Fine, And The Moon Peeped Through The Trees; And The Scented Jessamine Vine Swung Its Blossoms In The Breeze, Full Of Sleeping Honeybees: "That's Old Sister Moon," He Said. "SHe's A Perfect Simpleton; Scared To Death Of Old Man Sun: All Day Long She Hides Her Head." And I Asked My Father Why, And He Made Me This Reply: "Sister Moon'S Old Eyes Are Weary; Her Old Eyes Are Very Weak; Poor And Old And Worn And Weak: And The Old Sun, With His Cheery Looks, Just Makes Them Leak And Leak, Like An Old Can Leak And Leak. That's The Reason Why, My Dearie."