SQUIRREL TOWN. 



Where the oak trees tall and stately 



Stretch great branches to the sky 

 Where the green leaves toss and flutter 



As the summer days go by, 

 Dwell a crowd of little people, 



Ever racing up and down. 

 Bright eyes glancing, gray tails whisking ; 



This is known as Squirrel Town. 



Bless me, what a rush and bustle, 



As the happy hours speed by ! 

 Chatter, chatter — chatter, chitter, 



Underneath the azure sky. 

 Laughs the brook to hear the clamor ; 



Chirps the Sparrow, gay and brown 

 "Welcome! Welcome, everybody! 



Jolly place, this Squirrel Town." 



Honey-bees the fields are roaming ; 



Daisies nod and lilies blow ; 

 Soon Jack Frost — the saucy fellow — 



Hurrying, will come, I kno^. 

 Crimson leaves will light the woodland ; 



And the nuts come pattering down. 

 Winter store they all must gather — 



Busy place, then, Squirrel Town. 



Blowing, blustering, sweeps the north wind- 

 See ! the snow is flying fast. 



Hushed the brook and hushed the Sparrow, 

 For the summer time is past. 



Yet these merry little fellows 

 Do not fear old Winter's frown ; 



Snug in hollow trees they're hiding. 

 Quiet place is Squirrel Town. 



— Aux Thorn. 



