Then she took a tiny scrap of dough,
And rolled and rolled it flat;
And baked it thin as a wafer--
But she couldn't part with that.
For she said, "My cakes that seem so small
When I eat of them myself,
Are yet too large to give away."
So she put them on a shelf.
Then good Saint Peter grew angry,
For he was hungry and faint;
And surely such, a woman
Was enough to provoke a saint.
And he said, "You are far too selfish
To dwell in a human form,
To have both food and shelter,
And fire to keep you warm.
"Now, you shall build as the birds do,
And shall get your scanty food
By boring, and boring, and boring,
All day in the hard dry wood."
Then up she went through the chimney.
Never speaking a word;
And out of the top flew a woodpecker,
For she was changed to a bird.
She had a scarlet cap on her head,
And that was left the same,
But all the rest of her clothes were burned
Black as a coal in the flame.
And every country school-boy
Has seen her in the wood;
Where she lives in the trees till this very day
Boring and boring for food.
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