“Coo-ca-doodle-doo!
Miss Lark, just hurld, it’s time you knew
That I have a voice as well as you!”
The crower sings, & claps his wings,
And struts & scratches, & stretches & flings,
A call to his biddies who run with a whew,
As he bustles about with his clarion-shout
Of “Coo-ca-doodle-doo!”
“Cut-a-cut-cut, ca-dar-cut!”
I’ve laid you an egg!” the old hen said,
“In a very pretty nest my marks made;
Snug in the corner you’ll find it put;
Take care! dont crush it there, Bub, with your foot
But sun & halloo; I tell you my fellow,
The thing we have done is a thing to be known,
Cut-a-cut-cut, ca-dar-cut!”
“Cluck, cluck! craike! craike!
Dig us a worm up, Bub, with your rake,
Lenny, just toss us a bit of your cake;
I am a Sitting Hen, I must be flitting then,
Back to my nest; come, bustle, & hustle
The dirt about, Bay; this lagging & fuss’ll
Let all my hitter get cold as a snake!
Cluck, cluck, craike, craike!”
“Peep, peep! cheep, cheep!”
The little chicks creep all up in a heap,
Under the Biddy’s warm wing to sleep;
Winds may sweep, & cold dews weep,
But ‘snug as a bug in a rug’ they’ll keep.
Out from the feathers their little heads peep,
As they sing till they keep, their “cheep cheep,”
Cuddled in feathers so warm & deep!
Hen-Talk