"Mamma, what noises do I hear?
They keep me wide awake."
"The chirping crickets, little dear;
What funny noise they make!"
"Yes, ma, but touch their tongues with oil,
To take the squeak away;
For soon it will their voices spoil,
To squeak thus night and day."
Well done, my little girl of three;
'Twould tune our speaking gear
To utter sweeter melody
For your attentive ear,
If it were oiled a little, too,
For harsh too oft its tones;
Though formed to thrill with pleasure true,
It gives forth shrieks and groans,
Which fall discordant on the ear,
And budding pleasures spoil,
And speaking gear, likewise I fear;
So bring along the oil.
This poem is in the public domain.