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The Wit and Humor of America, Volume III. (of X.)

Volume 10 — THE TREE-TOAD

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BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

"'Scurious-like," said the tree-toad, "I've twittered fer rain all day; And I got up soon, And I hollered till noon— But the sun, hit blazed away, Till I jest clumb down in a crawfish-hole, Weary at heart, and sick at soul! "Dozed away fer an hour, And I tackled the thing agin; And I sung, and sung, Till I knowed my lung Was jest about give in; And then, thinks I, ef hit don't rain now, There're nothin' in singin', anyhow! "Once in awhile some farmer Would come a-drivin' past; And he'd hear my cry, And stop and sigh— Till I jest laid back, at last, And I hollered rain till I thought my th'oat Would bust right open at ever' note! "But I fetched her! O I fetched her!— 'Cause a little while ago, As I kindo' set, With one eye shet, And a-singin' soft and low, A voice drapped down on my fevered brain, Sayin',—'Ef you'll jest hush I'll rain!'"

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