Cluck, Cluck!

Cluck, cluck! come under my wings, All you poor little shivering things! It’s cloudy above and muddy below; The rain pours down and the four winds blow. Too bad the weather’s so damp and cold, And you, poor chicks, but three days old! You haven’t much chance, that I can see; But cluck, cluck! come hither to me. Yellow, and Brownie, and Tan, and White, Blackie and Spot—yes, six—that’s right. Cluck, cluck! hide under my wings, And I’ll keep you warm, you poor little things.

BOBBIE AND THE BEE.

“Hark, the bee winds its small but mellow horn.”

All roun’ de flowers, you pwitty fly, All roun’ de flowers an’ me, You sing so loud! Dess reason why— You’s happy as tan be. Bet I tan tatch you if I try. Zere! now I’s dot you, see! Boo-hoo! Do ’way, you udly fly! What for you bited me?