I'm a frog with a shanty built over each eye,
And a terrible push when I get on a hump;
There's very few reptiles that's one-half so spry
Or can come up along side o' me on the jump.
I'm a frog when the other birds take to the wing
And wander away beneath balmier skies;
I belong to the bloated batrachian ring
With a pneumatic palate for coaxing in flies.
I'm a frog in the fall and a frog when the frost
Spreads over the land, and the forests are gray.
I'm a frog keepin' house at a very small cost
In a dug-out I've built out of cat-tails and clay.
I'm a frog with a green overcoat and a voice
That tickles the woods, when the winter's no more.
The old folks are glad and children rejoice,
At the first tap o' thunder, I let out a roar.
I'm a frog living down in the lush of the swale;
You all know my voice when I'm looting for game.
They call me a cannibal-what a sad tale.
Well, maybe I am; I'm a frog just the same.
