Tricksy Bunny

Willie Burrill kept a squirrel.
     Very brisk and full of play,
And because her ways were funny,
He had named her “Tricksy Bunny,”
     And he fed her twice a day.

Gray for Sunday, gray for Monday,
     She wore velvet, work or play;
Silken hose and gloves, of tender
Gray, clad feet and fingers slender,
     And she tossed a plume of gray.

To behold her on his shoulder
     Sitting pertly, without fear,
You might laugh, and call her saucy,
But she hopped up there because he
     Would hide beech-nuts in his ear!

Willie’s pocket,—he would stock it
     With ripe hazel-nuts or grain,
And Miss Tricksy would go searching
To its deepest, before perching
     On his head, to flirt her train.

Full of courage, she would forage
     Up his sleeve and down his back,
From his store of flag-root, jack-stones,
Pog-tops, marbles, strings (and waxed ones!)
     Gathering hickory nuts to crack.

Prudent, funny Tricksy Bunny
     Hid her nuts in mamma’s shoe,
Sometimes in her jewel-casket,
Her lace cap, or stocking-basket,—
     Yes, and hid herself there, too!

Willie Burrel took his squirrel,
     One “Emancipation Day,”
And, with heaps of grain to feed her, 
Went into the woods and freed her,
     Dropped a tear, and stole away!

Tricksy tarried there and married,
     And she keeps house up a tree;
But comes down to romp with Willie
When he whistles for her shrilly,—
     And who now is glad as he?