Not about Pigs
ANTS, ALTHOUGH ADMIRABLE, ARE AWFULLY AGGRAVATING
The busy ant works hard all day
And never stops to rest or play.
He carries things ten times his size,
And never grumbles, whines or cries.
And even climbing flower stalks,
He always runs, he never walks.
He loves his work, he never tires,
And never puffs, pants or perspires.
Yet though I praise his boundless vim
I am not really fond of him.
BEES, BOTHERED BY BOLD BEARS, BEHAVE BADLY
“Your honey or your life!” says the bold burglar bear,
As he climbs up the tree where the bees have their lair.
“Burglars! Burglars!” The tree begins to hum.
“Sharpen up your stings, brothers! Tighten up your wings, brothers!
“Beat the alarm on the big bass drum!
“Watch yourself, bear, for
here
we
come!”
Then the big black bees buzz out from their lair,
With sharp stings ready zoom down on the bear.
“Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Don’t be so rough!”
He slithers down the tree, squalling, “Hey, let me be!” Bawling,
“Keep your old honey. Horrid sticky stuff!
“I’m going home, for
I’ve
had
enough!”
O eagle, mightiest of all living things,
Nor Death nor Destiny spreads stronger wings.
Thy claws of brass, thy beak of burnished steel,
Make malefactor pigs in terror squeal.
The fearless eagle cleaves the stormy air;
With mighty wings he sweeps the clouds asunder;
He screams defiance at the lightning’s glare,
And at the thunder’s crash he laughs like thunder.
Oh, a life of adventure is gay and free,
And danger has its thrill;
And no spider of spirit will bound his life
By the web on the windowsill.
Yet many a wandering spider sighs
For the pleasant tang of the home-grown flies.
But one tires at last of wandering
As summer fades to fall.
And the year is old, and the wind grows cold,
And the flies are few and small.
Then each spider knows that, by Jan. or Feb.,
He’ll be better off in the old home web.
To say that worms are edible
Will seem to you incredible.
For you to eat a measuring worm
Would take more courage and determination that to take a dive into a clump of poison ivy.
Yet robins eat them every day;
They smack their beaks and shout Hooray!
They gobble them with joy and pride
And do not seem upset inside.
The moral here is plain to see:
What pleases you does not please me;
What pleases me to you is hateful,
And for this fact we should be grateful.
SUGGESTED VERSE BY MR. POMEROY
To say that worms are edible may seem to you incredible,
And yet I most emphatically assert
That hardly any dishes are more filling or deliciouser
Than angleworms pulled freshly from the dirt.
Here’s to you, Jerry*; we all join together
In welcoming you to our home.
You came all this way in the worst kind of weather,
For it couldn’t be colder in Nome.
You had no red flannels to keep yourself warm
And you had no galoshes or hat,
But you plugged right along in the teeth of the storm,
And we surely admire you for that.
So you’re here, and we’re glad, and we all want to say,
Though of valentines we’ve quite a few,
The best of the valentines we’ll get today
Is from our friend Boomschmidt—it’s YOU!
* Rhinoceros with Boomschmidt’s Circus