["The Robin and the Butterfly"]

A robin once sat in a sycamore tree
Dividing a worm for her little ones three
While a butterful sat on a gravelly walk
Observing the [?] bird with the eyes of a hawk
Calmly wavering his
with his delicate wings on there edges thin
Looking dull on the outside and gaudy withing
Ever turning up tempting and fanciful tints
Like a specimen-book full of calico prints
The robin is fearful to venture on high
For she knows she'll be followed by [?? beau but]
Wherever she goes 'tis a troublesome track
With the wings of a butterfly thumping her back

Mrs. Robin you'll find it a tiresome track
With this troublesome calico man at your back
He's A man of few words, but of many a whack.

Tis true he's a rather officious bean
But this butterfly once was a worm you know
Who has many a fried in wormdom yet left
        his
By thee and thine of their kin bereft
But he has many friends in wormdom left
And he
Who sits in his native gravely home
To show you from whence the avenger will come
And the field of his former helpless shame
Must bebome the field of his glory and fame.