Tea-Kettle Song

O Listen...to the song,
The tea kettle is singing.
The steam comes a-pouring,
And the notes come a-ringing.

I sit here in fancy,
And watch it come out.
T'is a volume of power,
That comes from the spout.

The heat-waves come rolling,
From out of the grate.
And to feel the warm comfort,
I hardly can wait.

The wood...it is purring,
As the flames whip and lash.
So soon they'll be dying,
And go down in ash.

The tea-kettle will hush,
And the notes from its tongue.
Will cease to make music,
For the song...will be sung.


E.P. 1908 - 1989