SONG OF THE SQUIRREL.

1. Overhead on the boughs you may see me, I’m off in a flash if you tease; And I swing on the green twig above you, 295 As it gracefully bends to the breeze. All the sweet summer time I am playing, And cutting up capers so queer; ’Tis the happiest season for squirrels, The holiday time of the year.

2. And when Autumn is dressing the wild wood In raiment of scarlet and brown; When Jack Frost comes to shake all the treetops, Till the nuts and the acorns come down; Then the squirrel’s rich harvest is welcome: I gather a plentiful store. You may know where my snug little house is, By nuts that you see at my door.

3. All the winter, secure from the weather, I live in my streets underground, So concealed you can’t see my snug dwelling, Where I sleep from the cold safe and sound. Don’t you think I am clever and skilful, And all my contrivances good; Don’t you think that we gay little squirrels Are the happiest folk of the wood?