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William T. Cox's
“ T H E    H O D A G    A N D   O T H E R   T A L E S    O F   T H E   L O G G I N G   C A M P S ”
(  90th  A N N I V E R S A R Y    H Y P E R T E X T   E D I T I O N  )
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For riches or glory, I wouldn’t swap thee,
My dear old companion. My rustic settee.
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Preserve that dear old settee when I’m dead
and gone,
It silently sits there upon the front lawn.
I hope ’twill be kept in remembrance of me,
That dear old unpainted, unvarnished settee.
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THE   BOLD   BLUE   JAY
x Boy Oh, a saucy bird is the bold blue jay
That dwells among the bushes.
From early morn ’til the close of day,
Its cracked voice never hushes.
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From the evergreen to the maple tree,
It ever frisks and gambols,
And builds home and nest for its family
Among the briars and brambles.
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And as it flits in the darkened wood,
Unearthly sounds, it utters.
And as it toils for its daily food,
It constantly scolds and mutters.
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No matter how cold is the wintry blast,
How hot are days of summer,
The blue jay can talk as loudly and fast,
As a sleek, dry goods “Drummer”.
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96
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When summer unfolds its sultry breeze,
And days grow mild and warmer,
The blue jay forsakes his home in the trees,
And scolds the honest farmer.
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While it is pilfering the farmer’s corn,
’Twill screech, and roar and prattle.
It can make more noise than a big tin horn
Or a herd of hungry cattle.
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It can raise its voice to a higher key,
Than the lordly Shanghai rooster,
Or a “Lumber Jack”, when he’s on a spree,
Or a Florida, hot “Booster”.
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How proudly it waggles its crested poll,
And preens its tinted feathers,
When it sits on a bush, a tree or a knoll,
In most any kind of weathers.
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The blue jay’s plaintive yells and doleful
          cries,
Are neither songs nor sonnets.
Its tinted feathers, it leaves when it dies,
To deck some Lady’s bonnets.
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