The Envious Wren

On the ground lived a Hen,

In a tree lived a Wren,

Who picked up her food here and there;

While Biddy had wheat

And all nice things to eat

Said the Wren, " I declare, ' tisn't fair!

" It is really too bad! "

She exclaimed — she was mad —

" To go out when it's raining this way!

And to earn what you eat,

Doesn't make your food sweet,

In spite of what some folks may say.

" Now, there is that Hen, "

Said this cross little Wren,

" She's fed till she's fat as a drum;

While I strive and sweat

For each bug that I get,

And nobody gives me a crumb.

" I can't see for my life

Why the old farmer's wife.

Treats her so much better than me.

Suppose on the ground

I hop carelessly round

For awhile, and just see what I'll see. "

Said this cute little Wren,

" I'll make friends with the Hen,

And perhaps she will ask me to stay;

And then upon bread

Every day I'll be fed,

And life will be nothing but play. "

So down flew the Wren,

" Stop to tea, " said the Hen;

And soon Biddy's supper was sent;

But scarce stopping to taste,

The poor bird left in haste,

And this was the reason she went:

When the farmer's kind dame

To the poultry yard came,

She said -and the Wren shook with fright —

" Biddy's so fat she'll do

For a pie or a stew,

And I guess I shall kill her to- night. "