POOR LADY LOVE
Parson Crow sat on his tree,Early one spring morning;And his voice was hoarse as he said, “Caw, caw.”And he was sleepily yawning.
Parson Crow sat on his tree,Early one spring morning;And his voice was hoarse as he said, “Caw, caw.”And he was sleepily yawning.
Parson Crow sat on his tree,Early one spring morning;And his voice was hoarse as he said, “Caw, caw.”And he was sleepily yawning.
Parson Crow sat on his tree,
Early one spring morning;
And his voice was hoarse as he said, “Caw, caw.”
And he was sleepily yawning.
Andjust as Lady Love passed by that wise old crow opened his little Wisdom Book and began to read:
“A mossy stone will never roll,But always stays in the same old hole.”
“A mossy stone will never roll,But always stays in the same old hole.”
“A mossy stone will never roll,But always stays in the same old hole.”
“A mossy stone will never roll,
But always stays in the same old hole.”
Then he closed his little Wisdom Book and stroked his beak with his black wings.
“Well, my boy’s back from the army,” said Lady Love proudly, and she took out of her pocket a little flag and waved it up and down. And then she took out of anotherpocket a little silver Liberty Bell and rang it three times, and then she hopped away to the postoffice, for she wanted to send a letter to Aunt Columbia about her little son’s discharge.
Well, when she reached the postoffice, the postmistress, the old maid grasshopper I told you about some million stories ago, who had gone to Palm Beach for the winter, looked out of her little stamp window and said,
“Good morning, Lady Love. What can I do for you? Now here’s a stamp already damp, and it’s red, white and blue.”
“What a pretty little stamp,” said Lady Love, as she put it on the envelope before dropping her letter in the little crack in the wall.
And then she went down to the Three-in-one-centStore to buy a tea kettle. But just as she started away for the Old Bramble Patch, Mr. Wicked Wolf jumped out from behind a tree. And, oh, dear me! If Lady Love hadn’t opened her green silk parasol, and held it in front of her, that wicked old wolf would have eaten the carrot flowers right off that little lady rabbit’s bonnet.
“Fold up your parasol,” said Mr. Wicked Wolf, “or I’ll tear it into fourteen different pieces.” And, of course, this frightened Lady Love nearly to death, for she was very fond of her green silk parasol, let me tell you.
“If you do,” said she, “I’ll tell the Bunnyville Regiment and they’ll hang you.” And when Mr. Wicked Wolf heard that, he ran away as fast as he could.
“Dearie me,” said poor frightened LadyLove, “times are dreadful.” And she hurried home as fast as she could hop to put the new tea kettle on to boil for supper.
And if the tea caddy doesn’t put golf balls in the new tea pot when Lady Love isn’t looking, I’ll tell you in the next story about Timmy Meadowmouse.