THE FOWLS
by M. Nightingale
Black hens, white hens, speckled hens and
brown.
Clucking in the sunshine, strutting up and
down;
Very vain and happy they for were the truth but
known
Each thinks the loudest cackle in the farm-yard is her
own,
And each declares the egg she's left behind her in the nest
Is bigger and much better than the eggs of all the rest.
"Cackle-cackle! Cluck-a-club!
Cock-a-doodle-do!
The cock is king of Farm-yard Land,
But I am queen there, too."
White hens, brown hens, speckled hens and black,
With lots of little yellow chicks a-toddling at their
Back;
Father cock must come and look, his red comb on his head;
"Cheep at him, my pretties! Sir, be careful how
you tread!
Now are they not a lovely brood? Just see them peck
and run;
And see how my two soft warm wings will cover
every one.
Cackle-cackle! Cheepie-cheep!
Ah, Cock-a-doodle-do,
Although you're king of Farm-yard Land
I'm prouder far than you!"