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 bj- ! 

 Chatter, chatter — chatter, chitter. 



Underneath the azure sky. 

 Ivaughs 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 know. 

 Crimson leaves w411 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. 



