"Chewink! Chewink!" a sprightly sound
Ringing across the bushy ground,
A worker's challenge bold and free,
The alto call of industry.
Deep in the underbrush is heard
The scratching of the busy bird;
Behold, with energetic heaves,
Both feet at once, he flings the leaves.
But ever, pausing on the brink
Of new descent—Chewink! Chewink!—
He shouts his slogan clear and strong,
And glorifies his work with song.
No dreary drudgery for him,
A very dandy gay and trim,
With black and white and ruddy brown,
The smartest gentleman in town!
Ah, brother toilers, bent and worn
Beneath your burdens all forlorn,
Your work's a martyrdom, you think?
Just hear that bird: "Chewink! Chewink!"
