“I’ll take some corn along,” he said, filling his old wedding stovepipe hat up to the brim;
“Come, little pigeons, eat up the corn,
I haven’t had time to buy rye,
And you mustn’t care that the store on the square
Has only a fresh apple pie,”
sang dear Uncle Lucky. By and by he hopped back into the house for his afternoon nap.
Bright and early the next morning, before Mr. Merry Sun had taken off his cloudy nightcap, the Old Red Rooster knocked on the kitchen door.
“Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!
Please open the door when I take off my hat!”
he sang, after rapping for the umpty ’leventh time. Dear me! Uncle Lucky was a sound sleeper. I guess he only woke up when his alarm clock tickled him.