The pine trees furnish me with cones,
That taste as sweet as corn pones.
The nuts and cones, I store away,
For the proverbial “rainy day”.
I sit and chatter when I please,
Upon the leafy forest trees,
Without a sorrow or a care.
Should day or night be foul or fair
And should the wind blow east or west,
It don’t disturb me in my nest.
My nest is lined with moss and
hay, My cones and nuts are stored away
And on this earth, you’ll vainly try
To find a happier lad than L”
The ox replied, “if you are through
Just let me say a word or two.
I’ve listened to your wild tirade,
Digested every word you’ve said.
You vain and silly little fool,
Subjecting me to ridicule.
Some day, you’ll drop into a trap
And that will stop your senseless yap.
I want to tell you, little scamp,
What you did in a logging camp.
You stole my corn, you stole my hay,
You even “swiped” my meal away.
You e’en stole friedcakes from the cook
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And cached them in some hidden nook.
You thieve at evening, noon and morn,
You’ve been a thief since you were born.
You’ve said some dreadful things of me
But you can’t impeach my honesty.
And though I cannot get around,
As fast as you upon the ground,
I’ve been a help, as you must see,
To the whole human family.
When pioneers moved to the wood,
I hauled their meager household goods.
Drew logs to build their cots and barns,
Pulled stumps and plows upon their farms.
When prairie schooners long ago,
With favorite slogan, “westward ho“,
When camped beside the muddy streams,
Their motive power was four ox teams.
And when upon the western plains,
Beset by blizzards, hail and rain,
Mid buffaloes and Indian screams,
They plodded on with four ox teams.
And now, my friend, you have not shown,
A single good deed you have done.
My timid, saucy little friend,
You’ll surely come to some bad end.
You tell how you can frisk and play,
You’ll come to grief, some future day.
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