I'm a fussy little fellow
In my kilt of glowing yellow;
   As about the garden ways I bow and bend.
Many a melody I bring you,
In the soft, gay songs I sing you
   With a cheery little grace-note at the end --
                        "Chip, chip."
   Oh, I never miss that grace-note at the end.
 
Summer into autumn passes,
And among the rippening grasses,
   'Mid the midges, goodly provender I gain.
Little for your presence caring,
Confident and greatly daring,
   I will charn you with a sudden, sweet refrain --
                        "Chip, chip."
   Oh, a very soft, yet valiant refrain.
 
When the time has come for nesting,
Our sagacity attesting,
   We erect a neat, twin-chambered bow'r of love;
Mother in the nursery sleeping
With the babes, while sentry keeping,
   Father has his parlor-bedroom up above
                        "Chip, chip."
   Oh, it's cosier -- and quieter above.
 
In my kilt of golden yellow
I'm a friendly little fellow,
   And my spangled sable crown I proudly bear.
Tho' my way be meek and lowly,
I can capture, win you wholly
   If you'll listen to this cheerful little air --
                        "Chip, chip."
   Oh, I'll charm you with my cheerful little air.

"Den"
Herald, 1 June 1933, p6