  The red-legged locust. Oh, my, oh, my! He plays all day. But why? But why? You rub your legs with your dusty wings; Your fiddle shrieks till the welkin rings; On meadow green, through the livelong day, You saw and eat till they’re bare and gray Zee-e-e, zee-e-, zee-e-e! The green katydid. Dear me, dear me! The finest chap. Just see, just see; You play so hard and you trill so long, Your midget wife ne’er can sing a song, Still you rub your wings in the drollest way While dancing clover blossoms swing and sway Zig, zig, z-i-g, zig, zig, z-i-g! The insects’ clown is he, is he! From Maine o’er plains to the Rockies found, With foolscap forehead and shrilling sound, From bush and bramble your roundelay Comes sharp and clear through the summer day, Z-szip-zee. Z-szip, z-szip-zee! The wee tree cricket. So free, so free! Sings night and day! What glee, what glee! Your high held wings make such presto fine No human skill can compare with thine; So fast, so shrill, and so wondrous gay, Such tunes are joy to a dancing fay, T-ree-ee, t-re-ee, t-re-ee! T-re-ee, t-re-ee, t-re-ee! Sweet meadow fiddlers, zip, zee, zip, zee! They fill the earth with glee, with glee! We greet your coming with fond delight And gayly hie in the sunshine bright, Where bees and blossoms and birds all day Wing, swing, and sing to your joyful lay. Zip-zip-z-ee! zip-zip-z-ee!
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