The Cricket on The Hearth
The Cricket on The Hearth
Poem
Old Granny Cricket's rocking-chair,
Creakety-creak, creakety-creak!
Back and forth, and here and there-
Squeakety-squeak, squeakety-squeak!
On the hearthstone, every night,
Rocks and rocks in the cheery light.
Little old woman, dressed in black,
With spindling arms and a crooked back.
She sits with a cap on her wise old head,
And her eyes are fixed on the embers red;
She does not sing, she does not speak,
But the rocking-chair goes creakety-creak!
Cheerily sounds the rocking-chair,
Creakety-creak, creakety-creak!
While it swings in the firelight there-
Squeakety-squeak, squeakety-squeak!
Old Granny Cricket, rocking, rocking,
Knits and knits on a long black stocking.
No matter how swiftly her fingers fly,
She can never keep her family-
With their legs so long from foot to knee-
Stockinged as well as they ought to be;
That's why, at night, week after week,
Her rocking-chair goes squeakety-squeak!
Notes
Written by Clara Doty Bates.
Thanks and Acknowledgements
Image colorized by Lisa.
