From the Evening Star, April 1, 1915. By Philander Johnson.
A robin sat upon a limb,
A-singin’ very jolly.
“Oh bird,” sez I, I sez to him,
“You should be melancholy!
“You haven’t any children small,
No friends nor no relations;
You’ve got no certainty at all
Of lodgin’ or of rations.
“You haven’t got no place to went,
You loafer in a tree, you!
Or if you have, I bet a cent
No one is glad to see you.”
The robin stopped his song an’ said,
“Excuse me while I snicker.
It is the narrow life you’ve led
That makes you such a kicker.
“This limb I sit on ain’t so fine
And scant is my apparel;
A simple sort o’ feed is mine,
And yet I love to carol.
“While thinkin’ on my state of ease
My soul in song relaxes.
I go an’ come jest when I please
An’ never pay no taxes.”
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