T'was the day before Sunday, when gardening is done,
when we'd gotten up early and worked in the sun.
My sis in her visor and I in my cap
had sat on the deck for a short springtime nap.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
but a fat little robin without any fear.
He hopped right up to us and said with a chirp
You'd better get up and start digging some dirt!
The
seeds are all warming in their nestled beds
while visions of budding still dance in their heads.
They need to be watered, they need to be wet.
Hurry, get up, 'cause your job's not done yet!
I looked at him, head cocked, with great disbelief
to think that a robin would hop up and speak.
But when I said, Sis! Did you hear all of that?
She snored and she yawned as she turned on her back.
As I looked at the robin, all fat and still perky,
he cocked his head, too, and said, sort of jerky,
You'd best rouse your sister and better hop to it!
Go nudge her and shake her and wake her. Just do it!
To the top of the fence post beside the back wall,
he dashed away singing, Happy gardening to all!
