The Troubles of Biddy: A Pretty Little Story

Over the barnyard and in 'mong the flowers.

The little log barn was a refuge at night
Where often poor Biddy for courage would fight;
And there, with her feathers above her young brood,
She tried to instruct them in ways to be good.

Where apples were juicy and mellow, one day,
These ten naughty children were gathered to play,
When suddenly one of them, leading the band,
Said, "Come, let us travel," and there a trip planned.

So off they all went toward the shed and the pump,
Turning out now and then for a log or a stump,
And down the steep hill where the clover bloomed bright
The little band wandered in perfect delight.

The moment that Biddy discovered the plot
She rushed in confusion and soon reached the spot;
"Oh children, be careful!" she screamed in alarm;
"In the lake I'm sure you will meet with some harm!"

But to cry, and protest, and urge them to come
Seemed all of no use, for they would not go home.
And Biddy exclaimed to herself in disgust,
"To stand this I cannot, and leave them I must!"

The evening shades gathered that night in the sky;
The wind sung most softly a sweet lula-by;
But Biddy had left her dear children alone:
She found they were ducklings, and such could not own.

The End