The Chickadee

There’s somethin’ ’bout the chickadee Thet’s, somehow, awful cheerin’; Around the shanty door it bums An’ gethers up the crusts an’ crumbs Cook scatters in the clearin’.

It gethers up the crusts an’ crumbs An’ jest as glad it chatters As if it fed on biscuit fine All soaked in milk er dipped in wine An’ served on silver platters.

My share of life is crusts an’ crumbs I find somehow er other; An’ how I wish thet I could be Like you are, Mr. Chickadee, My cheerful little brother!