She sits on the single tree,
Sits on the whipple tree,
Sits on the single tree.
And, believe me, her greatest indoor and outdoor sport is sitting on the single tree.
* * *
Up in the deer hunting grounds of northern Minnesota the jack-pine savages are still singing that old familiar ditty about the much maligned, bird—the woodpecker. These heart throbbing words peal gently through the evening air:
“I stuck my finger in a woodpecker’s hole,
And the woodpecker said: ‘Gosh darn your soul,’
‘Take it out; take it out; take it out; take it out.’”
* * *