The young brood

Among the orchard weeds from every search
Snugly & sure the old hens nest is made
Who cackles every morning from her perch
To tell the servant girl new eggs are laid
Who lays her washing by & far & near
Goes seeking all about from day to day
& stung with nettles tramples everywhere
But still the cackling pullet lays away
The boy on Sundays goes the stack to pull
In hopes to find her there but naught is seen
& takes his hat & thinks to find it full
Shes laid so long so many might have been
But naught is found & all is given o'er
Till the young brood come chirping to the door

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