Dive Deep into Creativity: Discover, Share, Inspire
By Amos Russel Wells
It was a goose who sadly cried, "Alas! Alas! The farm is wide, And large the barnyard company, But no one ever looks at me; There really seems to be no use, Or praise, or glory, for a goose.
They pet the dog whose bark and bite Scare tramps by day and thieves by night; But when I bravely stand on guard, And drive intruders from the yard, They laugh at me. The kitten plays, And all admire her cunning ways; But when I venture in the room, To play, in turn, some stick or broom Soon drives me out. Those birds they call Canaries cannot sing at all In my sweet fashion; yet their lay Is praised—from mine folks turn away. They prize the horse who pulls the cart; But when I try to do my part, And mount the shafts to help him draw,
They whip me off. Last week I saw Two stupid horses pull a plow, I watched the work, I learned just how; Then, with my bill, I did the same In flower-beds, and got only blame. It really seems of little use To try to help—when one's a goose!"