THE CUDDLE-DE-WEES

Our hen has a troop of cuddle-de-wees That follow her round, all day; And some are yellow, and some are black, And one is a spotless gray; And at evening time, when the sunset light Glows red between the trees Our hen selects a sheltered place And calls to her cuddle-de-wees; “Cuddle-de-wees, cuddle-de-wees, The dew’s on the meadow, the night’s on the breeze, And the herd bells ring; come under my wing And snuggle to sleep, while the crickets sing; To the world, a stupid old hen am I; To you I’m a refuge, warm and dry, And safe with a feathery peace: so rest, For young little fowl this place is the best.” And there in the shadow, beneath the trees, They run to her gladly, the cuddle-de-wees.