The Sandhill Crane

Whenever the days are cool and clear

The sandhill crane goes walking

Across the field by the flashing weir

Slowly, solemnly stalking.

The little frogs in the tules hear

And jump for their lives when he comes near,

The minnows scuttle away in fear,

When the sandhill crane goes walking.

The field folk know if he comes that way,

Slowly, solemnly stalking,

There is danger and death in the least delay

When the sandhill crane goes walking.

The chipmunks stop in the midst of their play,

The gophers hide in their holes away

And hush, oh, hush! the field mice say,

When the sandhill crane goes walking.

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