Oh, Mrs. Cow has a little bell
Tied to her neck with a string,
And every time she shakes her head
It gives a ting-a-ling-ling.

"Helloa, little rabbit," said Ducky Waddles. "I guess I'll go down to the Old Duck Pond and take a swim." So off he went, wabbly, wabbly, on his big yellow feet, and pretty soon he saw Granddaddy Bullfrog on his log. The old gentleman frog was feeling very fine this lovely spring morning, for he had just eaten thirty-three flies, and that's a pretty good breakfast, let me tell you, even if the advertisements say you must eat shavings and cream to be perfectly well.

"Good morning, Ducky Waddles," said Granddaddy Bullfrog. "Have you heard the news?"

"What news?" asked Ducky Waddles, taking off his collar and his blue necktie before jumping into the water.

"Why, the Farmer's Boy has gone to the city to see his old maid aunt," said Granddaddy Bullfrog with a grin. "He won't throw stones at me now for maybe a week."

"Well, that's good news," said Ducky Waddles. "Now I can take a swim without worrying about my new necktie." And he flopped into the water with a splash that almost frightened to death a little tadpole who was swimming close by.

"Gracious me!" said the Little Tadpole, whose name was Tad, "if that old duck had seen me he would have gobbled me up as quick as a winkerty blinkerty." And then he hid behind a water lily stem until Ducky Waddles was far away.

Well, Ducky Waddles hadn't gone very far before Mrs. Oriole, who had a nest like a long white stocking on a branch of the weeping willow tree, began to sing:

"Swing high, swing low,
Swing to and fro
From the branch of the willow tree.
But whenever I look
In the Bubbling Brook
Another bird looks at me."

"Ha, ha!" laughed Professor Jim Crow, who happened to come by just then. "What sort of a bird lives in the Bubbling Brook?"

"Well, I can tell you one thing," said Mrs. Oriole, "she doesn't keep her feathers well combed."

And then you should have heard that wise old blackbird laugh.

"Well, when you look in the Bubbling Brook again," he said, "comb your feathers, Mrs. Oriole, and perhaps that other bird will do the same."

And would you believe it, that's just what happened? But how Professor Jim Crow knew it I'm sure I don't know, unless his wife had a vanity bag with a little mirror in it, as all the ladies do nowadays who don't vote, I'm told.

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