“It seems to me it orter work,”
Said Farmer Hiram Beggs,
“By feeding Hens on Easter dyes
To deckerate their eggs.”
And sure enough for several days
The eggs were many-hued
With stranger markings on the shells
Than Beggs had ever viewed.
He peddled them about the town
And found a brisk demand.
He sold a dozen lovely ones
To Mrs. Cyrus Bland.
On Easter morn she gave the eggs
To Bob, her precious boy,
Oh, but the baubles pleased the lad
And made him shout for joy.
Now Bobby’s appetite was great,
And being unrestrained,
He fell to eating Easter eggs
Till not a one remained.
Next morning mama climbed the stair
Her sleepy son to rout,
When horror! what a sight he was —
The dyes were coming out!
The Easter Collier, p. 32.
I don’t know the date, as I got this image from an eBay auction; it appears in the Beineke’s library catalogue of Peter Newell’s family papers among the unidentified or unpublished comic strips.