The Woodpecker

Hark, my boy, that rap-rap-rap!
See that little red-head chap
Standing straight against the side 
Of the old tree, dead and dried.

All about, on hickory bolls, 
Rings and rings of little holes 
Show us what a busy drill 
Is that brave woodpecker's bill.

And far up the maple-tree, 
In the dead and bare trunk, see
What deep tunnels he can dig, 
Round as apples, and as big.

There he builds a nest, he thinks, 
Hidden well from hawks and minks;
But forgets, of all that harms, 
Naughty boys have longest arms.

How his glittering eye peeps out 
Sideway twisting, in some doubt;
And now fast, with "rap-rap-rap,"
Bobs his little scarlet cap.

And his sharp and crooked toes
Keep him nailed there as he goes 
Round and round the little mine
That he bores into the pine.

Ho, how funnily he drums!
But 'tis not for fun he comes:
Not too small to earn his meat, 
He works well that he may eat.

And I guess he times his blows, 
To make merry as he goes, — 
Heart so light, and head so gay, 
All his work is turned to play.