POOR LITTLE TWEEDLE TEDEL BEEBEE PINKY

When poor little heart Pinky,

Was about six weeks old,

She was taken with the chicken distemper,

Chickens died off all over this island.

She was catching grasshoppers, and crickets,

In the forenoon smart,

At twelve o'clock she was taken sick,

And grew worse.

At one o'clock she was past opening her eyes,

And could not stand,

Her body felt cold

And stiff to my hand.

I give her a portion of epsom salts,

With a little black pepper in it,

I wept over her that afternoon,

I prayed to the Lord to save me her life.

I sat up that night,

With her in my lap,

Till eleven o'clock that night,

Then she seemed to be better.

Then I put her in a thing, a good soft bed,

And lay down and spoke to her often,

Say how do you do, little dear, she answered me quick,

Then I knew she was better.

The next day I gave her

Warm water to drink,

The third day she was herself,

Got well and smart.

She remained well four years,

And laid me pretty eggs,

Then the Lord thought best to take her from the evil to come,

Without being sick but a very little while.

When I was raising poor little dear in my lap,

And it rained on the window,

She would look at the rain,

And put her head under my cape.

And take it out every once in a while,

And look at the rain,

And put it under my cape again,

Up most to my shoulder.

Poor cunning little dear,

My heart is broken for her,

She and I loved each other so well,

And she had more than common wit.

That dear little heart,

Remembered four years,

Ever since she was a little chicken,

I know it by many things.

Her dear friend is left in trouble, and undergo sickness too.

Them that knew me once, know — me — no — more,

Her death renewed me to seek for God,

To land in heaven hereafter.