The Song of the Merry Lark

by Lenore Elizabeth Mulets

Once there was an old gray pussy, and she went down into the meadow, where she saw a merry lark flying among the tall reeds; and pussy said, "Where are you going, little lark?"

And the merry lark answered, "I am going to the king to sing him a song this fine May morning."

And pussy said, "Come here, little lark, and I'll let you see a pretty ring round my neck."

But the lark said, "No, no, gray pussy; no, no! You worried the little mouse, but you shall not worry me."

Then the lark flew away till he came to a high oak-tree, and there he saw a gray, greedy hawk sitting. And the gray, greedy hawk said, "Where are you going, pretty lark?"

And the lark answered, "I am going to the king, to sing him a song this fine May morning."

And the gray, greedy hawk said, "Come here, little lark, and I'll let you see a pretty feather in my wing."

But the merry lark said, "No, no, gray, greedy hawk, no, no! You pecked at the little linnet, but you shall not peck at me."

Then the lark flew away till he came to the side of a rock, and there he saw a sly fox sitting. And the sly fox said, "Where are you going, sweet lark?"

And the lark answered, "I am going to the king, to sing him a song this fine May morning."

And the sly fox said, "Come, little lark, and I'll let you see a pretty white spot on the tip of my tail."

But the lark said, "No, no, sly fox; no, no! You worried the little lamb, but you shall not worry me."

Then the merry lark flew away till he came to the garden of the king; and there he sat among the red clover blossoms and sang his sweetest song.

And the king said to the queen, "What shall we do for this little lark who has sung so sweet a song to us?"

And the queen said to the king, "I think we must have some May-day games for the little lark, and invite robin redbreast to sing with him."

So the gay robin redbreast came and sang with the lark.

And the king and the queen and all the fine lords and ladies danced and made merry while the little birds sang.

And after that the lark flew away home to his own green meadow, where the old gray pussy-cat still lived among the tall reeds.