Page:Field Poems of Childhood.djvu/233

 The brave little soldier quoth never a word,

But he up and he drew a straight bead on that bird;

And, while that vain creature provokingly sang,

The gun it went off with a terrible bang!

Then loud laughed the youth—"By my Bottle," cried he,

"I've put a quietus on 'Fiddle-dee-dee'!"

Out came then Dear-Mother-Mine, saying: "My son,

Right well have you wrought with your little red gun!

Hereafter no evil at all need I fear,

With such a brave soldier as You-My-Love here!"

She kissed the dear boy.

[The bird in the tree

Continued to whistle his "Fiddle-dee-dee"!]