He drank a deep draft of the rubber juice Page 93
Once on a time, long, long ago
I went to singing-school
Where all the wee birds in a row
Learned to obey each rule;
The teacher was a Parrot wise
For he alone could talk—
He flapped his wings and blinked his eyes
And scolded at the Hawk.
And the Crow and the Wren
And the little Fat Hen
And the Sparrow and Thrush and Jay
Were taught how the notes
Should come from their throats
In quite the particular way.
The Parrot taught the Dove to coo,
The little Chicks to cheep,
The Owl to screech and sing "Too whoo!"
The Whippoorwill to weep;
He taught the Lark to run the scales
And trill with great delight;
He had a class of Baby Quails
That whistled at "bob-white!"
And the Hen learned to "cluck;"
"Quack-quack" sang the Duck;
Till the Parrot at last called "Hush!"
And the echoes all rang,
When the Bobolink sang,
A duet with the little Brown Thrush.
Now when I hear the Robin's song,
Or Humming Bird's soft note,
Or hear a carol sweet and strong
From the Canary's throat,
I smile, and sometimes beat the time
For very well I know
How each one learned his music's chime
While standing in a row