It was awful long ago That I put those seeds around; And I guess I ought to know When I stuck 'em in the ground. 'Cause I noted down the day In a little diary book,— It's gotten losted somewheres and I don't know where to look. But I'm certain anyhow They 've been planted most a week; And it must be time by now For their little sprouts to peek. They 've been watered every day With a very speshul care, And once or twice I've dug 'em up To see if they was there. I fixed the dirt in humps Just the way they said I should; And I crumbled all the lumps Just as finely as I could. And I found a nangle-worm A-poking up his head,— He maybe feeds on seeds and such, And so I squushed him dead. A seed 's so very small, And dirt all looks the same;— How can they know at all The way they ought to aim? And so I'm waiting round In case of any need; A farmer ought to do his best For every single seed! |