At least I never saw any asleep at
night of all those who swarm in black clumps there on the edge of
Shiner's Pond in the moonlight. But I have not told you yet how Mrs.
Frisky Frog sang the chorus.
Wiggle wog
Woggle wig
Sing my pollywog
A tune to every jig.
Once while they were practising the lullabye at rehearsal, Mrs. Frisky
Frog forgot, and through force of habit sang the chorus she had made up
for her own little polly-woggles. But, dear me! Mr. T. Toad Todson flew
into a towering rage and croaked at her till he was fairly hoarse.
"Non-sense! Non-sense! Non-sense!" he jerked out, and when finally he
could control himself he spluttered aloud that he had never in his life
written such nonsense. You remember it was he who composed the song.
Poor Mrs. Frisky Frog's eyes rolled back a little further than usual,
and her throat jumped up and down with fear. It did not do to speak
crossly to Mrs. Frisky, she was so tenderhearted and was never known to
speak a cross word to her own little ones, or for that matter to any
one. Mrs. Cricky, one day while she was talking with Mrs. Poe Tato-Bug,
said that she knew of only one model mother in the community and that
was the admirable mother of those ugly little pollywogs. Here Mrs.
Cricky heaved a proud sigh as she thought of her own little darlings,
Chee and Chirk and Chirp, decked out in their pretty little clover
sun-bonnets.
But to go back to Mrs.
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