Said Minnie with pride,
As she counted her chicks,
“When they’re grown a bit bigger,
I’ll sell all the six.
And as each ought to fetch
At the least half a crown,
I can quite well afford me
A new Sunday gown.”
Alas for our castles!
How soon they all slip!
The cat ate one chicken,
And one got the pip;
And while mourning their brother
And sister, the four
Were crushed by the carter-boy
Slamming the door.
Don’t reckon your chickens
Before they are hatched,
Is a proverb some fancy
Can never be matched.
But I think that this other
Deserves to be told:—
Don’t count on their value
Until they are sold.