A Frog's Thanksgiving

I'm a frog with a shanty built over each eye, And a terrible push when I get on a hump; There's very few reptiles that's one-half so spry Or can come up along side o' me on the jump.

I'm a frog when the other birds take to the wing And wander away beneath balmier skies; I belong to the bloated batrachian ring With a pneumatic palate for coaxing in flies.

I'm a frog in the fall and a frog when the frost Spreads over the land, and the forests are gray. I'm a frog keepin' house at a very small cost In a dug-out I've built out of cat-tails and clay.

I'm a frog with a green overcoat and a voice That tickles the woods, when the winter's no more. The old folks are glad and children rejoice, At the first tap o' thunder, I let out a roar.

I'm a frog living down in the lush of the swale; You all know my voice when I'm looting for game. They call me a cannibal-what a sad tale. Well, maybe I am; I'm a frog just the same.