Old Dame Cricket, down in a thicket,
Brought up her children nine—
Queer little chaps, in glossy black caps
And brown little suits so fine.
“My children,” she said,
“The birds are abed:
Go and make the dark earth glad!
Chirp while you can!”
And then she began—
Till, oh, what a concert they had!
They hopped with delight,
They chirped all night,
Singing, “Cheer up! cheer up! cheer!”
Old Dame Cricket,
Down in the thicket,
Sat awake till dawn to hear.
“Nice children,” she said,
“And very well bred.
My darlings have done their best.
Their naps they must take:
The birds are awake;
And they can sing all the rest.”
