 | Birds, Bees and Blossoms |  |
63
THE CRICKET.
You've often heard me chirrup away,
And now I'll tell you what I say,
While on my instrument I play.
And now I'll tell you what I say,
While on my instrument I play.
I sing, “'Tis warm and cosy here,
And though I care not to appear,
You know that I am always near.”
And though I care not to appear,
You know that I am always near.”
I sing, “The frizzle of ham and eggs
Screws me up some hundred pegs,
And nearly carries me off my legs.”
Screws me up some hundred pegs,
And nearly carries me off my legs.”
With the kettle I love to sing—
Oh, how we make the whole house ring,
She calling and I answering.
Oh, how we make the whole house ring,
She calling and I answering.
64
And we can play—what can't we play?—
“Over the coals and far away;”
And then we haven't a piper to pay.
“Over the coals and far away;”
And then we haven't a piper to pay.
She shakes her lid like a castanet,
While I cry out, “More rosin yet;”
And then in a nice mess we get.
While I cry out, “More rosin yet;”
And then in a nice mess we get.
She boils over and I run in;
We know the housemaid will begin,
And there will be a deafening din.
We know the housemaid will begin,
And there will be a deafening din.
“Burn the kettle and cricket too!”
She says—“I might have nought to do,
But be cleaning after you.”
She says—“I might have nought to do,
But be cleaning after you.”
Truth is, I neither chirp nor call,
Have not a note, however small—
In fact I haven't a voice at all.
Have not a note, however small—
In fact I haven't a voice at all.
Believe me, I was born as dumb
As the stone of a green plum,
Or the nail upon your thumb.
As the stone of a green plum,
Or the nail upon your thumb.
It is not my throat that sings,
The noise I make is with my wings—
It is all done by jerks and springs.
The noise I make is with my wings—
It is all done by jerks and springs.
My wings the bow I so oft twiddle,
My body is my only fiddle—
That's why my tune breaks in the middle.
My body is my only fiddle—
That's why my tune breaks in the middle.
65
Up go my wings, and fiddle away;
“Rosin,” cries body, and don't we play,
Ofttimes until the dawn of day?
“Rosin,” cries body, and don't we play,
Ofttimes until the dawn of day?
I always cease when it gets light,
In fact I can't play well at sight,
That's why I strike up in the night.
In fact I can't play well at sight,
That's why I strike up in the night.
And though no beauty, as you know,
Nor ever cared to make a show,
I've still got two strings to my bow.
Nor ever cared to make a show,
I've still got two strings to my bow.
In the dark how happy am I,
If the place is warm and dry!
If it isn't, further I fly.
If the place is warm and dry!
If it isn't, further I fly.
The grasshopper's akin to me,
Belongs to the same family,
But somehow we could never agree.
Belongs to the same family,
But somehow we could never agree.
So, to put an end to strife,
He went and led a roving life,
And in the field camped with his wife.
He went and led a roving life,
And in the field camped with his wife.
He in the fields goes cricketing,
I within doors my music bring,
And to the cat and kettle sing.
I within doors my music bring,
And to the cat and kettle sing.
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