"Chewink! Chewink!" a sprightly sound Ringing across the bushy ground, A worker's challenge bold and free, The alto call of industry. Deep in the underbrush is heard The scratching of the busy bird; Behold, with energetic heaves, Both feet at once, he flings the leaves. But ever, pausing on the brink Of new descent -- Chewink! Chewink! -- He shouts his slogan clear and strong, And glorifies his work with song. No dreary drudgery for him, A very dandy gay and trim, With black and white and ruddy brown, The smartest gentleman in town! Ah, brother toilers, bent and worn Beneath your burdens all forlorn, Your work's a martyrdom, you think? Just hear that bird: "Chewink! Chewink!" |