Once on a time an old red hen
Went strutting 'round with pompous clucks,
For she had little babies ten,
A part of which were tiny ducks.
"'T is very rare that hens," said she,
"Have baby ducks as well as chicks--
But I possess, as you can see,
Of chickens four and ducklings six!"
A season later, this old hen
Appeared, still cackling of her luck,
For, though she boasted babies ten,
Not one among them was a duck!
"'T is well," she murmured, brooding o'er
The little chicks of fleecy down--
"My babies now will stay ashore,
And, consequently, cannot drown!"
The following spring the old red hen
Clucked just as proudly as of yore--
But lo! her babes were ducklings ten,
Instead of chickens, as before!
"'T is better," said the old red hen,
As she surveyed her waddling brood;
"A little water now and then
Will surely do my darlings good!"
But oh! alas, how very sad!
When gentle spring rolled round again
The eggs eventuated bad,
And childless was the old red hen!
Yet patiently she bore her woe,
And still she wore a cheerful air,
And said: "'T is best these things are so,
For babies are a dreadful care!"
I half suspect that many men,
And many, many women, too,
Could learn a lesson from the hen
With foliage of vermilion hue;
She ne'er presumed to take offence
At any fate that might befall,
But meekly bowed to Providence--
She was contented--that was all!
"Then the fairies would resume their dancing. Each little gentleman
fairy would bow to his lady fairy and sing in the most musical of
voices:
Sweet little fairy,
Tender and airy,
Come, let us dance on the good baby-eyes;
Merrily skipping,
Cheerily tripping,
Murmur we ever our soft lullabies.
"And then, as the rest danced, the fairy queen sang the following
slumber-song, accompanied by the orchestra: