Said the Little Red Rooster, “Believe me things are tough!
Seems the worms are getting scarcer and I cannot find enough.
What’s become of all those fat ones? It’s a mystery to me,
There were thousands through that rainy spell,
But now, where can they be?”
But the Old Black Hen who heard him didn’t grumble or complain,
She had lived through lots of dry spells;
She had lived through floods of rain.
She picked a new and undug spot, The ground was hard and firm,
“I must go to the worms, “ She said. “The worms won’t come to me.”
The Rooster vainly spent his day,
Through habit, by the ways
Where fat round worms had passed in squads back in the rainy days.
When nightfall found him supperless, he growled in accents rough,
“I’m hungry as a fowl can be, conditions sure are tough.”
But the Old Black Hen hopped to her perch
And dropped her eyes to sleep
And murmured in a drowsy tone, “Young man, hear this and weep.
I’m full of worms and happy
For I’ve eaten like a pig.
The worms were there as always
But, boy I had to dig!”
A depression era poem I read in Dave Ramsey’s Financial Peace University Workbook
1 comment:
The author for this poem is Adeline J. Haws. Since being written and published in 1929 "The Old Black Hen" has traveled the world over, has been altered to fit many needs and many occasions, and has lost it's original author and been claimed by others. There are enough people who are aware of these facts that we hear about and receive copies and comments from many places. We are just sorry that it has lost it's author [our great-grandmother] and wish credit could be given where the credit is due. The original is slightly different in the final verse and a word here and there. Please reply if you'd like a copy of the original. Thanks!
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