All gave good advice,
All found fault.
“Poor little Tommy Trottett!
Couldn’t eat it when he got it.”
“I like that,” said Buddie. “Oh, and I’ve just thought of another old ax—I mean saw, if it is one—Don’t count your chickens before they are hatched. Do you sing that?”
“One of my best,” replied the Donkey. And again he sang:
“‘Thirteen eggs,’ said Sammy Patch,
‘Are thirteen chickens when they hatch.’
The hen gave a cluck, but said no more;
For the hen had heard such things before.