OUR NEIGHBOR. 



WeVe a charming new neighbor moved in the next door ; 



He is hardly new either, he's lived there before ; 

 I should think he had come here two summers or more ; 

 His winters he spends far away. 



He is handsome and stylish, most fine to behold, 



In his glossy black coat and his vest of bright gold; 

 He is " proud of his feathers," so I have been told, 

 And I half believe what people say. 



His wife is a beauty, he's fond of her, too ; 



He calls her his '' Judy ;" I like it, don't you ? 

 And he sings every day all the long summer through. 

 Yet he is not a bit of a bore. 



For he's a musician of wonderful power ; 



I could list to his beautiful voice by the hour. 

 As he sings to his wife in their green, shady bower 

 In the elm tree that shadows my door. 



He's a sociable neighbor, we like him full well. 



Although we've not called yet, and cannot quite tell 

 All he says, tho' his voice is as clear as a bell, 

 And as sweet as the notes of a psalm. 



Do you ask what his name is ? Our dear little Sue 

 Was anxious to know it, and asked him it, too. 

 And this was his answer, I'll tell it to you — 

 '' My name is Sir Oriole, ma'am." 



— L. A. P., in Our Dumb Animals, 



203 



