Page:Poems Merrill.djvu/57

If he stays here what's to be done?
For Mother, look, he 's got a gun!
Here in this tree all day I've stayed—
Oh, Mother! are yon not afraid?

What shall we do? it takes my breath—
Must we stay here and starve to death—
Do you s'pose that old thing will hurt me?
I'm just as hungry as I can be!
But to get my grub I don't know how—
For see, he's looking at us now!
And what on earth are we to do—
Oh, Mother! I'm afraid, aren't you?"

"You foolish child," the old crow said,
"Fret not your silly little head—
That is our Corn King good and true,
He came and stayed here last year, too.—
He has come to us, armed with a gun;
To tell us when the planting's done.
He tells us that we need not fear,
He'll protect us as long as he is here.

He tells us—as he did before:
'Fear not the farmer any more'
Our honest Corn-King tells us right,—
Come, let us go and have a bite!