Old Biddy Brown, a nice old hen,
Belonged to little Nell;
She hid her nest from all the rest,
And kept her secret well.
And every morn, just like the sun,
She made her daily trip
Up in the hay her egg to lay,
And gave the rest the slip
But one cold day old Biddy Brown
Concluded it was best,
That in the hay she'd better stay,
And take a little rest.
They missed her from the chicken coop,
And from the barnyard pen;
And none could tell, not even Nell,
Just where to find that hen.
The days went by, the weeks sped on,
And still she hid away;
But little Nell kept hunting well,
And found her in the hay.
Now, Easter time was drawing nigh,
And Nell, in colors bright,
Was going to taint, with brush and paint,
Old Biddy's eggs so white.
She took them from the poor old hen,
Who'd sat so long with care,
And in a tin she brought them in,
Which really was not fair.
She dabbled with those pretty paints,
Till shells were lost to view;
Then with delight she viewed the sight
Of eggs, in red and blue.
She put them by the kitchen stove,
And covered them up tight,
To keep them warm and free from harm,
And out of baby's sight.
The next morn rang the Easter bells,
And Nell rose with a start;
Her playmates, some would surely come
To view her work of art.
So proudly to the kitchen then,
With step so light and free,
With happy look her playmates took,
Those Easter eggs to see.
But what a change came over Nell!
Had some one played her tricks?
To her surprise, before her eyes
Was a pan of downy chicks. |