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JUST A RIMEY FEW 
 
JUST A RIMEY FEW 
 
 BY 
 
 JAY G. VOSS 
 
 THE DAVID GIBSON CO. 
 
 CLEVELAND 
 
 1914 
 
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 Copyright, 1914 
 by The David Gibson Co. 
 
 NOV 25 (914 
 
To the CKdemory of my T>ear CM.other 
 
 to whom I am indebted for whatever ability 
 
 I may possess as a writer of verse. 
 
 She possessed the love of poetry to the 
 
 fullest extent and wrote many verses 
 
 for her own amusement. 
 
 ><S 
 
^ 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 I have known Jay Voss for many years — so 
 many that I cannot remember when I did not 
 know him. 
 
 His family and my family were neighbors in 
 the Hoosier capital when it was just a town; 
 when the term neighbor carried more meaning 
 than mere proximity-dwelling. 
 
 His father and my father were active in in- 
 dustrial and civic life when Indiana was under- 
 going the major processes to the making of its 
 present prosperity and its place in the world's art 
 and letters. 
 
 All through these many years I have known 
 Jay Voss as a many-sided man, — as a good 
 companion, as a raconteur, as a showman: a 
 traveler, a business man, a farmer, and even as a 
 writer on economics. 
 
 In a many-sided man we are apt to miss one 
 side; — sometimes two sides. 
 
 Years rolled on and our paths diverged. It 
 was disposed that my field of endeavor be that of 
 
Introduction 
 
 a publisher in a city many miles away from 
 Indianapolis, my old home. 
 
 But among many old friends the memories of 
 a few have naturally remained clear and distinct, 
 and none more so than those of Jay Voss; for his 
 unique viewpoint, his faculty of picturesque ex- 
 pression, and those qualities of the heart that 
 are not only the structure but the adornments 
 of the Hoosier character. 
 
 Within the past few years I have seen verses 
 run as reprint on the editorial pages of many 
 newspapers. Some of the same verses appeared 
 in different newspapers, and they were evidently 
 newspaper waifs. After the dash following the 
 last line of these was the name — Jay G. Voss. 
 
 Was this my old Hoosier friend.'' Had he 
 developed, or had I discovered another of his 
 many sides? 
 
 One day within the past year our paths con- 
 verged, on a street in Indianapolis; and many a 
 good thing has come out of a chance street 
 meeting. 
 
 We went to his home for an "Old Settlers' 
 Meeting," as he called it. He aired his opinions, 
 old and new, and in the same old picturesque 
 
Introduction 
 
 way; but they were softer, more gentle, as the 
 result of mellow maturity. 
 
 He reviewed the intervening years, and he read 
 to me many verses that he had written. Among 
 them were the newspaper waifs; their author and 
 my old friend were one and the same. 
 
 I gathered all he had written and took them to 
 Cleveland for publication by my. concern, and 
 the vision and effort of one more Hoosier now 
 appears between covers. 
 
 I have often been asked why so many writers 
 come from Indiana. 
 
 There are two reasons as I have discerned 
 them. The first is that pioneer people were 
 forced on their own resources for amusement and 
 diversion. In our congested civilization of to- 
 day people are alike; they become so by associa- 
 tion with each other, even in their general 
 amusements and diversions. 
 
 The open sky, the hills, the trees; the sounds of 
 the wind through the forest; the cry of the owls 
 by night — pioneer life amid virgin nature — 
 stimulated imaginations and visions. Before the 
 fireside and from its glow and warmth came 
 human fancies in story and song. 
 
Introduction 
 
 While few if any of these fancies were recorded 
 for posterity, yet their spirit, the faculty to 
 create them, does not die in one, or two, or even 
 three generations; it is an inborn spark that can 
 be fanned to flame at will, and even in a high 
 civilization, with all its lettered traditions. 
 
 Then the other reason is that some Hoosier 
 wrote a book at some time or other; he found 
 a publisher, and it sold. Others, his neighbors, 
 looked at his success, and some of them said: 
 "If he can do it, I can, too!" 
 
 All of them did not do it, but out of all came a 
 few successes on the law of averages; enough to 
 give the state its reputation for literary produc- 
 tion. 
 
 Somehow, whenever I think of those two 
 reasons, particularly now that I know another 
 to his many sides, I always think of Jay Voss as 
 typifying them. 
 
 David Gibson. 
 Cleveland, Ohio, 
 October 6, 1914. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Secret Dreams of Her 13 
 
 Visitation of the Humming Bird 16 
 
 Industrious Bill m 
 
 If I Were the Sun 24 
 
 Contentment Attempted 26 
 
 Thoughtful Thoughts 27 
 
 Lovers Young and Old 29 
 
 Triumphal 32 
 
 Confusion of Ideas .... ^4. 
 
 The Light To-dav ^ 7 
 
 The Hoosier Poet .... ^g 
 
 Advent of Spring ai 
 
 The River's Destination a a 
 
 The Planet Venus 46 
 
 My Bygone Fishing Place 4.8 
 
 A Thrifty Familv 50 
 
 Me and My Sister 52 
 
 The Parade 5 r 
 
 Our New Baby 60 
 
 Me and Billie and Uncle Josh 63 
 
 We All Made Up ' * 5^ 
 
 Darling Little Svi^eetheart 73 
 
 Why Santa Came to Our House 76 
 
 A Letter to Santa Claus .... 78 
 
 9 
 
Contents 
 
 An Expert Driver 80 
 
 The Fly and Mosquito ...... 82 
 
 The Phonograph . . . . . . .84 
 
 I Really Meant It — When I Wrote It ... 86 
 
 To— (I Won't Tell Who) 87 
 
 An Accepted Invitation 88 
 
 Were I "Passed Up" 89 
 
 Christmas Card 90 
 
 Sent with a Christmas Veil . . . . .9' 
 
 Holy Me and Sinner Thou ...... 92 
 
 Birthday . . . . . . . , .93 
 
 The Critic ......... 94 
 
 Real Love . . . . . . . . .95 
 
 My Choice 96 
 
 Truth .97 
 
 To my Friend, George B. Gaston . . . .98 
 
All that's in these riming lines 
 I've writ 'twixt business hours at times, 
 And should I write a bunch of iillin', 
 To read it, you might be unwillin'. 
 
JUST A RIMEY FEW 
 
 Secret Dreams of Her 
 
 I have heartaches in secret, 
 
 For a maiden in my mind, 
 And in memory I sit musing. 
 
 With all thoughts to her incHned; 
 I love to sit in revery. 
 
 Though I'll never see her more, 
 And my thoughts they move reversely 
 
 To the promised golden shore. 
 
 Oh! the sparkle of her laughter 
 
 And the gleeful winning way. 
 When she used to come to meet me, 
 
 With some gladsome thing to say. 
 Then we hunted four-leaf clovers 
 
 And chatted in the swing. 
 And she gave me her opinion 
 
 Of every little thing. 
 
 13 
 
Secret Dreams oj Her 
 
 My heart calls her in madness, 
 
 From an internal bleeding wound, 
 And it seems I hear the tripping 
 
 Of her feet upon the ground; 
 But Oh ! what joyful feelings, 
 
 Sometimes that o'er me creep. 
 When I dream she has not left me 
 
 But only gone to sleep. 
 
 When I peer into the water. 
 
 Of a crystal flowing stream, 
 Her figure rises slowly 
 
 From the vapor, it does seem. 
 And I see her fl.owing tresses 
 
 And rosy dimpled cheeks. 
 When Lo! her Phantom figure 
 
 In vapor from me creeps. 
 
 Sometimes the thought o'ertakes me, 
 
 That she is not far away, 
 But only gone to tempt me, 
 
 And she may return some day. 
 In sleep I meet an angel. 
 
 That comes to me in tears 
 And assures me she's in heaven, 
 
 And to banish all my fears. 
 
Secret Dreams of Her 
 
 Then as I shake and tremble, 
 
 I beg for just one word; 
 Oh! could I see her image, 
 
 I trust Is not absurd, 
 Then the angel lifts me gently 
 
 And we sail through mystic skies. 
 And when I am impatient, 
 
 It points where Heaven lies. 
 
 We seem to be now floating 
 
 Along the milky way. 
 And the angel me encourages, 
 
 In such a friendly way; 
 The stars are shining brightly 
 
 And I see a golden plain, 
 And I call the angel gladly for speed 
 
 In tears that rain. 
 
 And as our pace is quickened. 
 
 And we're rushing madly on. 
 The vision keeps receding. 
 
 And from our view is gone. 
 Then when I wake in fever 
 
 And an ecstasy of fear, 
 My heart beats fast in sadness. 
 
 And I've banished all good cheer. 
 
Visitation of the Humming Bird 
 
 While sitting in the garden, 
 
 In quiet meditation, 
 I saw a darling humming-bird. 
 
 In motions of flirtation. 
 It paused before the amaranth 
 
 With grace and perfect ease, 
 And humming words seemed coming 
 
 From out the perfumed breeze. 
 
 "I've been to see the lily, 
 
 The tulip and the rose; 
 Near the dearest violets 
 
 I've stood in graceful pose; 
 I flutter through the garden 
 
 In joyous, mirthful glee, 
 And stop a single moment 
 
 Each pretty flower to see. 
 
 i6 
 
Visitation of the Humming-Bird 
 
 "The greenest climbing ivy 
 
 I've seen upon the hills, 
 And played among the petals 
 
 Of the charming daffodils. 
 I quaff the fragrant odor 
 
 Of the sweetest pea that grows, 
 And linger 'round the clover 
 
 That everybody knows. 
 
 "The lily-of-the-valley. 
 
 With fragrant little bells, 
 I visit just a moment 
 
 And sip from out her cells. 
 Many pleasant moments 
 
 I spend among the trees. 
 And sniff the fragrant blossoms 
 
 Floating on the breeze. 
 
 "I have a secret word 
 
 With charming black-eyed Susan. 
 And catch the four-o'clocks 
 
 In sunny days a snoozin'. 
 I love to smell the breath 
 
 Of hyacinths and asters. 
 And kiss the goldenrod 
 
 In many quiet pastures. 
 
Visitation of the Humming-Bird 
 
 "I play upon the trumpets 
 
 As they creep along the wall, 
 And dart among the branches 
 
 Of fluffy white snowball. 
 I hover 'round the tuberose, 
 
 And breathe the fragrant air 
 With honeysuckle laden, 
 
 For which I dearly care. 
 
 "The saucy Johnny-jump-up 
 
 And the yellow dandelion 
 Are given but a moment 
 
 Of my very precious time. 
 I know the colored pansies. 
 
 And daisies quite serene. 
 With cunning little faces 
 
 Among the leaves so green. 
 
 "The dainty odor'd lilac, 
 
 The brittle touch-me-not. 
 Are down in yonder corner 
 
 With the forget-me-not. 
 The fragrance of carnations 
 
 I drink by yonder rock, 
 And rest my weary wings 
 
 On dear old hoUvhock." 
 
Industrious Bill 
 
 Wurk an' me wus nuver friends, 
 I'd ruther act the clown 
 
 Fur it's a thing thut nuver ends 
 Either in nur out o' town. 
 
 I don't mind a country walk 
 When I go huntin' er hshin', 
 
 Fur I kin smoke an' sleep an' talk, 
 An' hur the birds a singin'. 
 
 I jist waller in the grass 
 An' peer up in the trees. 
 
 An' lissen to the blue jays' fuss 
 An' watch them wurkin' bees. 
 
 T'uther night wus on the river 
 
 Floatin' on a raft. 
 An' the stars jist same as ever 
 
 Wus shinin' fore an' aft; 
 
 19 
 
Industrious Bill 
 
 I wus gazin' an' a lookin', 
 
 An' a wonderin' what they're fur? 
 An' wus dozin' an' a thinkin' 
 
 They should have a job fur shur; 
 
 I'd turn one into a garden 
 
 Fur raisin' veg'tu'buls an' sich, 
 
 Fur I nuver did like hoe'n' 
 
 'Cause it gives my arms the twitch. 
 
 If a feller wants to marry 
 
 I'd have one to raise a house, 
 
 Jist as comf'tu'bul an' airy 
 To the likin's of his spouse; 
 
 I'd sot one to makin' dresses 
 Thut would suit a purty gal, 
 
 An' I'd unjoy her currusses 
 
 With her friend an' my old pal. 
 
 I'd have a nuther fetch coal, 
 
 An' wood around to me, 
 Fur it's agin' my heart an' soul 
 
 To split wood an' tote, you see. 
 
 22 
 
Industrious Bill 
 
 I'd turn one unto a grocery, 
 Thut I'd unly have to ast 
 
 Fur food, includin' poultry 
 An' milk an' apple sass. 
 
 I'd have one bring 'round to me 
 A huntin' suit an' boots, 
 
 Jist as fine as fine could be. 
 
 An' some fishin' truck tu boots. 
 
 I'd turn this world into a garden 
 Of trees an' flowers an' streams. 
 
 Where I'd hunt an' go boat ridin'. 
 An' unjoy my fishin' dreams. 
 
 23 
 
If I Were the Sun 
 
 If I were the powerful sun 
 
 I'd change the program a bit, 
 And have things differently run 
 Wherever my brilliancy hit. 
 
 I'd melt all the polar ice, 
 And float it away in the air 
 
 To the desert lands in a trice, 
 
 Relieving the famine that's there. 
 
 I'd divide my time more evenly 
 And come nearer the polar folks, 
 
 And shine quite calm and serenely 
 On the adjoining equator folks. 
 
 I'd grow shade in the desert land, 
 Where the birds could nest and sing, 
 
 Transforming the sun parched sand 
 To a green and beautiful thing. 
 
 24 
 
// / JVere the Sun 
 
 While encircling the earth, I'd be careful 
 
 In each of my daily trips, 
 They would not be hungry and tearful 
 
 In such wide and numerous strips. 
 
 I'd see that he who is willing 
 
 To raise his daily bread, 
 Should not lack for a trifling shilling 
 
 Nor a place to lay his head. 
 
 No more would it be a misfortune 
 
 To be born in a certain spot, 
 I'd grow each an equal proportion, 
 
 And dispel the cold and the hot. 
 
 I'd shine o're the rugged mountains, 
 And melt all the snow so fast 
 
 It would rain down the sides like fountains 
 And grow an abundance of grass. 
 
 The sultry, disease ridden tropic 
 I'd transform to a healthful land, 
 
 And disease would not be the topic 
 Of a poverty stricken band. 
 
 2^ 
 
Co?ite?it7?ient Attempted 
 
 My ideal life — at this time 
 
 Is a bungalow on a wooded knoll, 
 
 In easy reach of an electric line 
 
 On a winding stream with a fishing hole. 
 
 An airy porch, all screened around, 
 A lounging couch and many books, 
 
 A den where I'd be often found. 
 
 With rugs and pictures to help the looks. 
 
 My favorite dog to lay at my feet, 
 
 As I gaze in the glowing log fire-place. 
 
 Away from the wind, and snow and sleet 
 
 With songs and music and her charming grace. 
 
 With only her friends and mine to greet, 
 To the world I'd be a will-o'-the-wisp, 
 
 If away from a busy commercial street. 
 Could I but end mv days like this. 
 
 -6 
 
Thoughtful Thoughts 
 
 When we think of hfe at present, 
 And the 3^ears that yet may come, 
 
 Then we wonder why unpleasant 
 We should be to any one. 
 
 Let us not imagine pleasure, 
 Be in actions real and true, 
 
 Then we'll store up future treasure, 
 That we'll use our whole life through. 
 
 If we could extend but favors, 
 
 And be true to our belief. 
 We'd enjoy friends and neighbors, 
 
 And do much to lessen grief. 
 
 When life's autumn leaves are falling, 
 And we feel the frost of years, 
 
 We fancy bells are tolling. 
 
 And the sound grates on our ears. 
 
Thoughtful Thoughts 
 
 'Tis a pleasant retrospection, 
 
 Of the days which we have known, 
 
 That there's no sad recollection 
 Of bad seed which we have sown. 
 
 In the trough of life we flounder, 
 With great billows on each side, 
 
 And from conscience should not wander 
 But be true to self and pride. 
 
 Why be greedy, selfish, grasping, 
 When so soon we're swallowed up, 
 
 And we face the everlasting 
 With a full or empty cup. 
 
 28 
 
Lovers Young and Old 
 
 The wintry snow, all fleecy and white, 
 
 Was shining so bright, in the pale moonlight. 
 
 The stars, were winking and Winking above, 
 Placed in the Heavens by a God of Love. 
 
 Joyous laughter Alls the crystal air. 
 
 As young sweethearts trip down the stair. 
 
 To a merry crowd in a great big sleigh. 
 In a moment more they're on their way. 
 
 As the sleigh-bells rang a merry chime 
 They all were having a glorious time. 
 
 They left Pa gazing in the old fire-place, 
 In fancy, he saw A^lamma's young face. 
 
 They were sleighing 'neath the same moonbeams. 
 Stars were laughing at their sweet dreams. 
 
 29 
 
Lovers Young and Old 
 
 They cuddled down beneath the robe, 
 As the big sleigh creaked along the road. 
 
 Dreaming of the day not far ahead, 
 When they'd be old enough to wed. 
 
 The day dreamed of was coming soon. 
 And near the end of next full moon. 
 
 Ma was made the bride of Pa, 
 
 At as pretty a wedding as you ever saw. 
 
 They lived so happy for many a year. 
 With scarcely a sorrow or even a tear. 
 
 Until at last the horrid death. 
 Stole from Ma her last life breath. 
 
 And now Pa dreams of the life to come, 
 Of her sweet image so tender and young. 
 
 Will it be merry as the tinkling bell. 
 
 And filled with happiness, can anyone tell.^ 
 
 And the lovers, be lovers at the parting day, 
 When death steals either one away? 
 
 30 
 
Lovers Youfig and Old 
 
 Shall their tread through life be pierced by a thorn, 
 Or sweet loving kisses tlie last parting morn? 
 
 Will he cherish and love, Pa's darling girl, 
 As long as the road of life they whirl? 
 
 And fondle and kiss a sweet baby girl, 
 Romp, play and twist a long golden curl? 
 
 Will the baby cause his heart to beat. 
 When he hears the patter of her tiny feet? 
 
 Will she twine her arms around his neck, 
 Saying: "Dear Papa, I 'spect 
 
 I loves my darling good Papa, 
 
 As much as Ma loves my Grandpa?" 
 
 31 
 
Triumphal 
 
 Now that the Isthmus is in twain, 
 And the cut has filled with water, 
 
 The land that's always idly lain 
 Has become a world-wide matter. 
 
 This mighty work so well begun, 
 
 This engineering climax, 
 The feat of feats, beneath the sun, 
 
 That brawn and brain so tax. 
 
 Soon the Asiatic ships will turn 
 And eastward plow the oceans. 
 
 And European ships then turn 
 To ports to suit their notions. 
 
 From what oceans or what seas 
 There unfurled to greet them 
 
 Proudly floating on the breeze. 
 
 Waves our flag, — a monarch's diadem, 
 
 32 
 
Triumphal 
 
 I pray God — speed the day 
 
 That universal peace may come, 
 
 And in an arbitrating way 
 Our differences overcome. 
 
 Triumphant bells we now have rang, 
 That through the world vibrate. 
 
 I trust they ne'er will boomerang 
 And of our blood partake. 
 
 33 
 
Confusion of Idt 
 
 eas 
 
 All nations jog on earth apart 
 
 In peace, in joy, in sorrow, 
 Each one according to the start. 
 
 And their ideas of the morrow, 
 Each one is sure that they do know^ 
 
 Just where the other errors. 
 And if they had the chance to show. 
 
 They'd save them many terrors. 
 
 The Mormon is quite sure he knows 
 
 That Solomon was quite right, 
 He surely was the king of beaus 
 
 And married all in sight. 
 The Tibet man does not object 
 
 When his wife another marries, 
 And never says, it is neglect 
 
 When alone with him she tarries. 
 
 34 
 
Confusion of Ideas 
 
 Brahma sprang from an egg of gold, 
 
 All Brahmans are quite sure, 
 So often they've the story told. 
 
 It must for long endure. 
 The lower half of this shell, 
 
 This dear old earth did make, 
 The upper half, they do us tell. 
 
 Formed the Heavens for their sake. 
 
 One-third the humans of this earth. 
 
 To Buddah bend the knee, 
 And never speak of Him in mirth, 
 
 But praise Him reverently. 
 That souls transmigration surely be 
 
 They've never had a doubt. 
 One of the things they plainly see 
 
 And tell us all about. 
 
 The one and only truth is told 
 
 The Mohammedan is sure. 
 The Koran does to him unfold 
 
 The laws so true and pure, 
 That Mohammed, God's apostle be 
 
 Many nations think they know, 
 And surely through the azure see 
 
 Good seed his teachings sow. 
 
 3S 
 
Confusion of Ideas 
 
 Old Sol has posed for many tribes 
 
 As God, I know not why, 
 Although he's given many jibes, 
 
 He still remains on high. 
 He smiles and frowns and glares, 
 
 As we a speck float by. 
 And on our tangled theories stares, 
 
 As we howl and screech and cry. 
 
 Christians have it all worked out 
 
 And know all others wrong. 
 They have them whipped within and out 
 
 In prose, in verse and song. 
 Streets of gold in Heaven above, 
 
 Old Mephistopheles below. 
 We're told in words of love. 
 
 We reap just what we sow. 
 
 When Gabriel blows his trumpet blast. 
 
 And we are summoned to the throne. 
 The final day has come at last. 
 
 We've reached the happy home, 
 But oh, ye mixture creeds, beliefs, 
 
 Must all then go below. 
 But those who stand on lucky reefs 
 
 And say: "I told you so." 
 
 36 
 
The Light To-day 
 
 I broke my slumber at early dawn to-day, 
 To see the golden orb in tinted views, 
 
 And catch the first reluming ray 
 Unfolding scenic hues. 
 
 The radiant rays, the night from day divide, 
 
 Starting all before them moving, 
 And the tinseled beams of the moon subside 
 
 As the light is night removing. 
 
 Pushing on as though commanding, '"wake! 
 
 Unto your labors go! 
 That you, may be allowed to take 
 
 Of that which I may grow." 
 
 The dew which falls in the hours of night, 
 
 In a sparkling mist of pearl. 
 Retreats from the charging rays of light, 
 
 In a whirling, spangled twirl. 
 
 37 
 
The Light To-day 
 
 Stars are fading In the firmament blue, 
 
 And the rustUng leaves and the rippling rill, 
 
 As the fiery horizon comes plainer to view, 
 Secretly murmur: '"Tis morning, God's will." 
 
 The Hand that turns us to the light, 
 
 Will not bring back this day. 
 But turn us on with wonderous might 
 
 To each recurring day. 
 
 Be unlike the blinking owls ! 
 
 That hide from Ught of day, 
 And hoot, in nightly prowls, 
 
 But strive for higher light, to-day! 
 
 Embrace the chances of the hour; 
 
 Let not this day be lost! 
 Love should be our guiding power, 
 
 To-day may ne'er be crossed. 
 
 The radiating glory of the solar beam, 
 
 Should be a beacon light. 
 To-day is not the day to dream! 
 
 There may be clouds ere night. 
 
 38 
 
The Hoosier Poet 
 
 This poem zvas written for the Indianapolis Press for Riley Day, 
 
 a das set aside in Indiana for honoring James Whitcomb 
 
 Riley in the Public Schools. 
 
 The soldier and the sailor 
 
 Won for our state a name, 
 And helped to place Old Glory 
 
 On the pinnacle of fame. 
 But in the many battles, 
 
 No sword or gun has won 
 The tender, loving hearts of man. 
 
 As our poetic son. 
 
 He speaks of all the lilies. 
 
 The pansy and the rose, 
 And finds a line of poetry 
 
 In every flower that grows. 
 The largest and the smallest bird. 
 
 The sweetest singing creature, 
 Are each and every one described 
 
 In rime and rhvthmic metre. 
 
 Z9 
 
The Hoosier Poet 
 
 The Hoosier in his dialect, 
 
 The farmer at the plow, 
 The grass that's in the meadow, 
 
 The hay that's in the mow; 
 The pumpkin and the fodder. 
 
 The frost that touches them. 
 And all within the barn-yard. 
 
 Are handled by his pen. 
 
 His loving, childish sympathies 
 
 Do moisten all our eyes, 
 As he tells of all their troubles 
 
 'Twixt earth and yonder skies. 
 Their ills and tearful sorrows 
 
 Are spoken of in verse, 
 Then in joyous rapture 
 
 He fills our hearts with mirth. 
 
 We are proud that he's a Hoosier, 
 
 And in this land of ours. 
 Has given to humanity 
 
 So many pleasant hours. 
 When his days are over 
 
 His virtues will be told, 
 And his name live on forever — 
 
 Preserved as precious gold. 
 
 40 
 
Advent of Spring 
 
 The warm south wind came along with a bound 
 Melting the ice and the snow all around; 
 The joyful song of sweet birds in the trees 
 Said they'd come along with the warm, gentle 
 breeze. 
 
 From 'way up above, in the soft blue sky 
 Came the honk of the goose as he travelled by; 
 The quack of the duck was plainly heard 
 As the blue-jay fussed with another bird. 
 
 Cock Robin came along with the Spring 
 And sang his song with a merry ring. 
 Blackbirds chirped with a perfect din 
 In the same old roost so long lived in. 
 
 41 
 
Advent of Spring 
 
 The frogs came out and joined the throng, 
 And tried to drown the spring birds' song. 
 The more they clattered and rattled their throats 
 The greater the number of sweet bird notes. 
 
 The rain-crow croaked and squawked for rain 
 'Till the weather man tired of the refrain, 
 And sent a shower of silver drops 
 To stop his mouth and start the crops. 
 
 The dreary days of winter had past, 
 And the glorious Spring was here at last. 
 While all around 'tw^as plainly seen 
 That everything was turning green. 
 
 The lazy hens so long laid off 
 Were nesting now in the hay-loft; 
 The cows were having a glorious time 
 Chewing the grass that tastes so fine. 
 
 The bumble-bee flew around with a whirr, 
 And the honey-bee worked with a whizzing purr, 
 For Spring had turned the whole bunch out 
 And they were flying and buzzing about. 
 
Advent of Spring 
 
 The plow was turning the meadow sod, 
 And the farmer sang as along he trod. 
 From all about came a thousand notes 
 From as many cheerful, welcoming throats. 
 
 Old Sol mixed in with a warm, glad smile 
 For his rays had travelled for many a mile, 
 From 'way down South he had risen 
 And turned us out of our winter prison. 
 
 43 
 
The River s Destination 
 
 Where goeth the river when it reaches the sky, 
 As it murmurs and gurgles so wearily by? 
 Does it fall in the moon as it raises its face, 
 Or drop in the sun in about the same place? 
 
 Does it mix in the clouds, float back o'er the 
 
 earth, 
 From whence it came sparkling and laughing 
 
 with mirth? 
 Does it leap over to Mercury, Venus or Mars, 
 Or get tangled up with other big stars? 
 
 The man in the moon would drink it all up, 
 And the heat of the sun take it in at a sup, 
 The canals upon Mars would hold it to float 
 Her mailed God of War in a great golden boat. 
 
 44 
 
The River s Destination 
 
 The sweet queen of Venus would bathe in its spray, 
 And Mercury would need it to drive heat away, 
 Saturn would float it around on her rings, 
 And Jupiter use it for many great things. 
 
 45 
 
The Planet // 
 
 enus 
 
 Tell me who's on yonder planet 
 
 As it sparkles in the sky? 
 And who pushes or who pulls it 
 
 As it travels swiftly by? 
 Has it rivers, has it oceans? 
 
 Has it monarch or a queen? 
 That comply with all our notions 
 
 Of the things we've never seen. 
 
 Have they mountains, hills and valleys 
 
 Waving fields of grain and grass? 
 Churches, houses, streets and alleys 
 
 Built of brick and stone and glass? 
 Have they tombs and dismal hearses, 
 
 Stealing from them all that's dear? 
 Do they teach in prose or verses 
 
 Things that's good or bad to hear? 
 
 4t^ 
 
The Planet Fenus 
 
 Do they strive for fame and fortune, 
 
 And when gained it have to die? 
 Do they suffer pain and torture, 
 
 And in death forever lie ? 
 Are their tears for loved ones flowing, 
 
 Who've passed o'er the sands of time ? 
 And to the great unknown are going. 
 
 Without choosing place or time? 
 
 Were they born without their asking, 
 
 With great passions to control? 
 Stumbling through each day, as passing, 
 
 Through this life upon parole? 
 Have their talents been divided, 
 
 In a scale of equal trust? 
 And their dividends of life decided 
 
 In a manner fair and just? 
 
 47 
 
My Bygone Fishing Place 
 
 As I sit beside the river, 
 
 And its waters smile at me, 
 I wonder could it ever 
 
 Again return to me? 
 Then it murmurs and it gurgles 
 
 As o'er the rocks it glides, 
 And plays upon the ripples 
 
 As though from me it hides. 
 
 I'm sure I hear the voices 
 
 From out the whirling mass, 
 Mixed in with rippling noises 
 
 Of many kinds and class. 
 Of fairies sweet and dainty 
 
 As they hide behind the rock, 
 Calling out to me so faintly, 
 
 As at my heart they knock. 
 
 48 
 
My Bygone Fishing Place 
 
 Then the music of the Avoodland 
 
 Comes from out the sycamore, 
 As the sweetest singing bird band 
 
 Serenades me evermore. 
 And I love to sit and listen 
 
 To the band without a string, 
 While the blinking owls are kissin' 
 
 Up in a grape-vine swing. 
 
 And a chipmunk's at me peepin' 
 
 As it plays along a rail, 
 A jay-bird's at me screechin' 
 
 Near a squirrel with bushy tail. 
 Then I hear the coo-love-making 
 
 Of a little turtle-dove, 
 On a slender limb that's shaking 
 
 As I peer at them above. 
 
 Then I sit so quiet thinking 
 
 Of the days when I was young. 
 When in the same place fishing 
 
 I heard the same songs sung. 
 And now I feel much younger. 
 
 As in vision here in May, 
 They've returned in rain and thunder 
 
 To recall the bygone day. 
 
 49 
 
A Thrifty Family 
 
 I have the bunch of pigs, 
 Sister has the chickens, 
 
 John and Jim have bran-new rigs, 
 So Pa has real poor pickin's. 
 
 Ma has a swell new suit, 
 
 That cost her like the dickens, 
 
 Baby's cab looks awful cute — 
 So Pa has real poor pickin's. 
 
 Flossie looks the floosy flufttes, 
 Tangoing with Biggens, 
 
 And shaking gaudy ruffles. 
 So Pa has real poor pickin's. 
 
 Mary plays a doleful tune, 
 I think composed by Dickens, 
 
 The piano bill comes full too soon, 
 So Pa has real poor pickin's. 
 
 50 
 
A Thrifty Family 
 
 Jim wears cuffs upon his pants, 
 A mane grows from his thinkin's, 
 
 He swells around in posing slants — 
 So Pa has real poor pickin's. 
 
 To work is such a striving task, 
 From it our pace oft quickens, 
 
 For money we would rather ask. 
 So Pa has real poor pickin's. 
 
 51 
 
Me and My Sister 
 
 When I was 'ist a 'ittle lad 
 
 Dey sometimes said dat I was bad. 
 
 But 'ittle Mary, she an' me, 
 
 Was 'ist as dood as we could be. 
 
 Sometimes when we was feelin' fine 
 We'd run so far in de sunshine 
 Huntin' for four-clover leaves, 
 An' sometimes playin' in de sheaves. 
 
 We'd chase de butterflies an' bees. 
 Wade in de pond most to our knees, 
 Det pisened by de vines on rails. 
 An' grab at tadpoles' 'ittle tails. 
 
 '1st as de sun was 'bout to set, 
 We'd tink dat Pa an' Ma would fret, 
 An' den we'd scamper o'er de grass, 
 '1st run for home, Oh! so fast. 
 
 52 
 

Me and My Sister 
 
 An' Pa, he'd say: "Come in de room, 
 A punishin' you must have soon." 
 An' den we'd cry an' beg an' say: 
 "We never meaned to run'd away." 
 
 S3 
 
The Parade 
 
 My Pa, he's a express man 
 An' has a scenery wagon; 
 He hauls jist all he can 
 On the big theatre wagon. 
 
 Tuther day the horses scared, 
 
 An' a lot of stuff failed off, 
 An' a big paper elephant tared 
 
 An' broke his trunk clean off- 
 Then the man made Pa pay — 
 
 Him a lot of m.oney, 
 An' Pa hauled it all away 
 
 An' says: "You may have it, sonney." 
 
 He piled it in our hay-mow, 
 
 An' I says to Billie Brown: 
 "Let's put it on our old cow 
 
 An' parade all over town." 
 
 SS 
 
The Parade 
 
 Grandpa helped us fix the trunk, 
 An' patched the big house-saddle 
 
 An' said it didn't look like junk 
 But was a elephant model. 
 
 Billy's Pa gave him some goats. 
 An' a wagon made of wood, 
 
 An' Pa, he had some fishin' boats 
 With the ends cut off, looked good. 
 
 Grandpa took one an' helped us make 
 A band wagon, — 'bout so high — 
 
 An' some old theatre-stuff he take 
 An' 'round it nail and tie. 
 
 An' then we sit our phonograph 
 
 Down in the wagon bed. 
 Then Granpa, he jist laugh 
 
 When Billic Brown, he said: 
 
 "Fll git some tin play-horns. 
 An' fifes, an' a tenor drum, 
 
 Then folks will think our big horns 
 Is where the noise comes frum." 
 
 Sister Lou will the elephant ride, 
 Up in the big house-saddle, 
 
 S6 
 
The Parade 
 
 An' then she'll be a Princess bride, 
 With me in my pony's saddle. 
 
 Preacher Jones thinks he's so smart, 
 An' Miss Jones aint much better, 
 
 When our parade was 'bout to start, 
 They both jist laugh an' titter. 
 
 I says: "Keep your horse a goin' 
 When our parade starts out, 
 
 You'll see things worth knowin' 
 An' you'd better both watch out." 
 
 Then the band in the wagon climbed 
 With Lula on the elephant mounted, 
 
 An' the phonograph music chimed 
 As the goats to the wagon started. 
 
 For tights I wore Ma's stockings, 
 An' rode our old gray horse, 
 
 An' sister's waist an' sash things, 
 
 At the head of the parade, of course. 
 
 Right ahead of us in the road. 
 Was Preacher Jones comin' back. 
 
 I hollered: "Git out of the road, 
 The parade's got the wagon track." 
 
 57 
 
The Parade 
 
 Then of all the plungin' an' rarin', 
 The preacher's horse was the worst, 
 
 He run in the fence a tarin' 
 An' tore it down, — almost. 
 
 We jist kept on goin' 
 
 An' giggled some ourselves 
 'Cause our parade was movin' 
 
 An' they couldn't help theirselves. 
 
 An' a policeman then came runnin' 
 
 An' says: "What do you children mean 
 
 Don't you see the horses runnin' 
 
 An' the driver's most scared green?" 
 
 Then Lula's Ma came rushin' 
 An' says: "Give me my child" 
 
 An' her face was all a blushin' 
 An' her eyes, they looked so wild. 
 
 An' the poUceman says: "You'd better 
 
 Go hikin' right back home 
 An' go a whole lot faster 
 
 Than' you came away from home!" 
 
 S9 
 
Our New Baby 
 
 A new baby's corned to our house, an' I'se mad 
 
 as I kin be, 
 We didn't need it nohow, dat's why I'se mad, 
 
 you see; 
 We'se dot more babies now dan all de folks I 
 
 knows, 
 An' Pa does heaps of kickin,' 'cause we eats 
 
 so much an' grows. 
 
 Dis mornin' as de doctor was a comin' in de 
 
 gate, 
 1 dist thought dat I'd stop him, 'fore it was 
 
 too late; 
 An' I says: "Dear Doctor, for dis little baby's 
 
 sake, 
 Don't you tink you'd better take it to some 
 
 udder folkses sate? 
 
 60 
 
Our New Baby 
 
 '"Cause we's dot ten chilern to our house, an' 
 
 eatin's mighty pore, 
 An' de whole gang gets a Hckin' now for yellin' 
 
 out for more. 
 An' Pa, he's awful cross when he sees us in 
 
 de street. 
 An' he tinks how many shoes it takes to cover 
 
 all our feet. 
 
 "If some rich folks had dis baby, they'd mighty 
 
 neah go craz}^, 
 An' you know Pa's failin' is, he's awful, awful 
 
 lazy; 
 An' Ma, she makes me sorry, when de young uns 
 
 is a squallin'. 
 For she's dot 'nough to do, 'thout botherin' 
 
 with der bawlin'." 
 
 But I wasn't so sorry after all, when I saw de 
 
 little creature, 
 'Tause it looks jist 'zactly as I do, jist every 
 
 doggone feature. 
 An' Pa an' Ma had a talk last night, an' Pa 
 
 said he'd do better; 
 An' what you tink. Pa's dot a job, for jist 
 
 now comed a letter. 
 
 6i 
 
Our New Baby 
 
 Sayin' he could start right in to work, an' 
 
 he'll start tomorrow, maybe. 
 So you see we's dot all kinds of luck on account 
 
 of dat new baby. 
 An' if Pa's job turns out all right, when we 
 
 goes out for an airin', 
 I 'spect we'll have a nice new cab that'll set 
 
 de neighbors starin'. 
 
 62 
 
Me and Billie and Uncle 'Josh 
 
 If the sun didn't shine in this here clime, 
 
 We kids wouldn't have a very good time. 
 Say Billie ! I wonder what's the reason why 
 
 Everything 'cept owls, watch the sun go by; 
 The rooster crows and the birds all fuss, 
 
 And animals too start raisin' a muss, 
 Wheels start movin', all things are growin', 
 
 Jist 'cause the sun her light is showin'. 
 
 And the moon, she kinda hides her face 
 
 When the sun comes up and takes her place, 
 And looks sorter pale and shame-faced too, 
 
 Jist like she didn't know what to do, 
 'Cause the sun's the boss of the whole affair, 
 
 And the stars and the earth aint anywhere, 
 But jist stand around, a loafin'-like, 
 
 'Till the sun comes up and makes 'em hike. 
 
 63 
 
Me and Billie and Uncle Josh 
 
 I'll tell you, Billie, what we can do, 
 
 We'll jist ask our colored man, too, 
 'Cause he sometimes preaches and sings. 
 
 And knows more'n most folks 'bout sich things. 
 For I'se goin' to tell you right now, kid. 
 
 Old Uncle Josh has some big things did. 
 He's hoe'n' taters in the garden now 
 
 And jist after dinner, he's goin' to plow. 
 
 I 'spect we'd better not ask him yet, 
 
 'Till the old man has his dinner et. 
 And then he'll be a talkin' right, 
 
 When he sits down with his pipe to light. 
 Now here he comes a limpin' along, 
 
 Hummin' the tune of an old-time song. 
 Don't you think that old man can't sing, 
 
 And jist make an old banjo ring. 
 
 Now, Uncle Josh, if you've finished that stew, 
 
 Jist sit down here and tell us a few, 
 'Cause Billie and me were awhile ago talkin', 
 
 As you were comin' from the garden walkin'; 
 And Billie and me was a wonderin' why 
 
 That jist every day the sun goes b}^; 
 The moon and the stars are afraid of it. 
 
 And when it comes out, away they git. 
 
 65 
 
Me and Billie and Uncle Josh 
 
 "Don't you-all know the sun's got wheels 
 
 A whole lot bigger'n your grandpa's fields, 
 And a fiery flame comes out of its mouth, 
 
 Then the stars and the moon run north and south; 
 If they didn't, he'd jist lick 'em up. 
 
 And swaller 'em down with one big sup; 
 And all the time in a great big hole, 
 
 A big colored man keeps shovelin' coal." 
 
 But, Uncle Josh, if the sun has wheels. 
 
 What is it turns 'em, like street-car wheels? 
 "Didn't I done tol' }'OU that a hired man 
 
 Was a shovelin' coal, fast as he can?" 
 What kinda track does the wheels run on 
 
 And where's the ties that the rails lay on? 
 "There aint no ties nor rails at all, 
 
 The sun's so hot, it jist can't fall." 
 
 "The sun's the first thing the Good Lord made. 
 
 And then he lay'd down in a big tree's shade." 
 But say! Uncle Josh, we wouldn't mind knowin' 
 
 Who made the tree, and where was it growin'. 
 "You-all is the most audacious childern. 
 
 And such impurtance is most bewildern; 
 You'd better be careful what you-all's sayin', 
 
 And be seekin' the Lord, and do more prayin'." 
 
 66 
 
We All Made Up 
 
 When we all went, so long ago, to the old mill 
 
 a fishing, 
 We did not eat, nor did we sleep, we were so 
 
 busy wishing. 
 For the sun, once more to come, through the 
 
 window creeping; 
 And when we heard old Pony call, we got out of 
 
 bed a leaping, 
 And called real loud to our dear Ma, to please 
 
 put up our dinner; 
 And Pony needed feeding, too, 'cause we just 
 
 had heard her whinner; 
 And when we had our breakfast eat, and dug a 
 
 can of bait. 
 We hustled for old Pony so we wouldn't be too 
 
 late; 
 And soon we were a trotting, out through the 
 
 barn-yard gate. 
 
^3i:^E2S?^ 
 
We All Made Up 
 
 Then Willie hollered: "Hold on, Pa, you've done 
 
 forgot the bait," 
 Then Pa, he gets so awful mad and says he just 
 
 won't wait 
 'Cause something always happens and we get 
 
 started late. 
 
 Then Willie in the dust runs home to fetch along 
 
 the bait. 
 And all a sudden stumps his toe, and nearly 
 
 breaks his pate. 
 And when we had him all patched up, and started 
 
 down the road, 
 We hadn't gone a mile, I know, 'till Mary's 
 
 hat off blowed; 
 And then I never saw the like, 'cause Pa, he 
 
 got so mad. 
 And I felt kinda sorry then, 'cause Ma, she 
 
 looked so sad. 
 And Pa, he licked old Pony, and swored a bad 
 
 word too. 
 But Pony didn't need it, and we all loved her 
 
 too. 
 And it wasn't more'n a minute, 'till Pa, he 
 
 looked around. 
 
 69 
 
We All Made Up 
 
 And there was our old Towser, sneakin' along 
 
 the ground; 
 Then Pa, he hollered loud, and gave him an 
 
 awful scolding. 
 And Towser, he just trotted off, and his ears 
 
 he seemed upfolding. 
 Then Pa, he pounded pony and we started down 
 
 the road, 
 And Towser turned around once more and after 
 
 us he go'd. 
 I says: "There aint no use of scolding, Pa, 
 
 old Towser's surely coming, 
 And he'll be along w4th us, a walking or a 
 
 running." 
 And when at last we reached the mill, right 
 
 there beneath the wagon, 
 W as Towser's friendly, smiling face, and his 
 
 tail was still "a-wagon." 
 And Pa and Ma were fishing soon, and Pa, he 
 
 got a bite, 
 And then he laughed and felt so good, we kids 
 
 slipped out of sight. 
 We waded in the river, 'way up above our 
 
 knees 
 And climbed upon the branches of over-hanging 
 
 trees. 
 
 71 
 
We All Made Up 
 
 And soon we heard a splutter and a childish 
 
 screeching yell, 
 For little sister Mary, off of a limb had fell. 
 Then Towser ran a barking, down to the folks 
 
 to tell, 
 And Pa and Ala came running to where we were, 
 
 pell-mell. 
 Then Pa, within a twinkle, did in the river 
 
 dive 
 And bring from out the water, little Mary still 
 
 alive. 
 And when back home we traveled, when the 
 
 evening sun had set, 
 We had with us old Towser, but not in the road, 
 
 you bet, 
 But perched upon the wagon seat, along with 
 
 sister Mary, 
 And we were singing Sunday songs, light-hearted 
 
 and merry. 
 
Darling Little Sweetheart 
 
 Oh! My little sweetheart, 
 
 Oh! My little dear, 
 Come and tell me some things 
 
 That I like to hear. 
 All about the turkey-hens 
 
 All about the gobblers 
 All about the quackin' ducks 
 
 And their little wabblers. 
 
 All about a big black bear 
 
 That climbed and climbed so high, 
 And its little baby bear — 
 
 That couldn't climb so high. 
 Tell me about your baby cab 
 
 And your big doll baby, 
 Was she really good to-day 
 
 And a perfect little lady? 
 
 73 
 
Darling Little Sweetheart 
 
 "When Susie Dav}' called to-day 
 
 An' brought along her baby 
 M}^ dolly, she jist acted bad — 
 
 An' I punished the young lady. 
 I put her in her dolly house 
 
 An' tucked her up in bed 
 An' told her not to say a word 
 
 Or even raise her head. 
 
 "Then we went playin' in the yard 
 
 An' our old turkey gobbler 
 Jist scraped his wings along the ground 
 
 An' nen he gobbled louder. 
 Nen the ducks came wabblin' out — 
 
 Jist one behind the other 
 An' the little staggerin' ducks 
 
 Came taggin' with their mother. 
 
 "Nen our big old gander goose 
 
 Came a hissin' an' a floppin' 
 An' we jist run so fast 
 
 Right in the house a hoppin'. 
 Nen I was kinda sorry too, 
 
 'Bout punishin' baby doll 
 An' I jist tooked her up — 
 
 An' cried, an' that's all." 
 
 75 
 
Why Santa Came to Our House 
 
 Santa's reindeer with their rattling hoofs, 
 
 Come scampering over the house-top roofs, 
 And the dear old man, when he come to ours, 
 
 Said: "This is the place for toys and flowers. 
 And climbed right out of his big sleigh 
 
 And says: "Til show these folks the way 
 To fix a Christmas tree so fine 
 
 It will look so pretty and glitter and shine. 
 'Cause I got a letter from a little girl, 
 
 With flaxen hair and a twisted curl. 
 Saying, I needn't have the leastest fear 
 
 'Bout leaving Christmas presents here, 
 'Cause she was good and loved her Ma 
 
 And was nice to brother and minded Pa. 
 A sled for brother would make her glad — 
 
 Sometimes he's naughty, but not real bad — 
 And Baby's the bestest, sweetest thing, 
 
 I know you'll her some nice things bring. 
 
 76 
 
Why Santa Come to Our House 
 
 When my Ma works and is tired, too, 
 I minds the baby and helps her do 
 
 All the work in our big house 
 
 And keeps as quiet as a little mouse.' 
 
 77 
 
A Lette?^ to Santa Claus 
 
 Santa Claus! Santa Claus! Where have you been 
 Rambling and roving since winter set in? 
 Where did you go last summer so warm? 
 Your furs and great coat are only for storm. 
 
 Does Christmas come in the northern clime? 
 Your sleighbells ring with a musical chime? 
 And little reindeer w^ith a great big sleigh 
 Haul all of the toys that big folks say? 
 
 Are you out all night with the darling deer 
 Without feeli^ng afraid and a little bit queer? 
 And now, old Santa, please tell us the truth — 
 Do you really ride over the top of the roof? 
 
 Have Papa and Mamma a true story told, 
 When your wonderful life to us they unfold? 
 Now, Santa, I'll tell you a thing or two 
 That all of us children should like vou to do. 
 
 7^ 
 
A Letter to Santa Claus 
 
 Bring baby some toys of wooden stuff, 
 And sister Mary a brand-new muff; 
 I'd like a doll with long flaxen hair, 
 Instead of some foolish old stuff to wear. 
 
 Tommy, he's just making a bluff", 
 And doesn't need more'n half that stuff". 
 He's written for so many things to you 
 And really expects to get but few. 
 
 If he gets the sled and tenor drum 
 
 Ma will be so cross and awful grum. 
 
 And, gee! but Pa will raise a muss 
 
 When Tom and his drum make all that fuss. 
 
 I think girls are nicer than boys, 
 And ought to have a heap more toys; 
 And Tom's been bad and used naughty talk, 
 And plays with mean kids on our front walk. 
 
 If you will these nice things bring, 
 I'll be good and happy as anything; 
 And I'll mind Pa, and be kind to Ma, 
 And as nice a girl as you ever saw. 
 
 79 
 
An Expert Driver 
 
 Why be a baby? 
 
 I ought to be a man, 
 I know just as much maybe 
 
 As most big folks can, 
 An' sister Mary said to me: 
 
 "You're just a little man," 
 An' I reckon I can see 
 
 I'se most ole as sister Ann. 
 
 I can ride de ole sorrel horse. 
 
 An' hitch him up an' drive. 
 Lots of big folks do it worse. 
 
 When my Ma is by my side. 
 Don't see why they calls me child 
 
 When I rides an' drives so well, 
 An' our ole horse is awful wild, 
 
 I hear de ole folks tell. 
 
 80 
 
An Expert Driver 
 
 All de boys look up at me 
 
 When we go out ridin', 
 An' all time try to see 
 
 If it's Ma or me drivin', 
 I don't even look around 
 
 But drives right straight ahead, 
 For them kids playin' on de ground 
 
 Had better be home in bed. 
 
 Alary Murphy, she's so smart, 
 
 Drivin' her ole pony 
 To her old yellow cart 
 
 An' calls de ole thing Roney. 
 Her Ma's stuck up proud 
 
 When Mary drives along. 
 An' talks so awful loud 
 
 When I know she's drivin' wrong. 
 
 I don't need a pony, 
 
 'Cause I can drive a horse, 
 An' Pa give lots of money 
 
 For our big sorrel horse. 
 An' I'd be 'shamed really 
 
 To drive a pony now. 
 For I'se big enough nearly 
 
 To show them kids how. 
 
The Fly and Mosquito 
 
 Say, Grandpa, please tell me why 
 As you say the thus and so 
 Why we have the old house-fly? 
 For I should surely like to know. 
 "I'll tell you, son, the thus and soes, 
 They stand day-watch for mosquitoes." 
 
 I wonder why they never strike ? 
 They're up at early dawn each day. 
 And working's what they surely like, 
 They never take the time to play. 
 "That's because you should not sleep 
 That in the light they o'er you creep." 
 
 Mosquitoes hum and sigh and sing, 
 While all night long their voices ring, 
 And their chewing, smarting sting, 
 
 82 
 
The Fly and Mosquito 
 
 I think a most unpleasant thing. 
 
 "In sleep you would the night have wasted 
 
 If they had not of you have tasted." 
 
 Dear Grandpa, I'd like to know 
 Why they always are at work 
 And all night long are on the go 
 And never stop to loaf or shirk? 
 "That, my son, is an object lesson 
 Honest toil is a worldly blessing." 
 
 «3 
 
The Phonograph 
 
 Phonographs are funny things — 
 Have wheels and springs and other things- 
 They can laugh and sing and talk, 
 But the tarnal things won't ever walk. 
 
 Our parrot, he can sing and talk, 
 And makes a stagger at a walk. 
 He must have wheels within his head — 
 The giggling, silly things he's said. 
 
 Ma can laugh and talk and sing. 
 And make more noise than anything. 
 The way she runs and gads about 
 Her springs will surely all wear out. 
 
 Pa says Sister makes him tired 
 For after all the teachers, hired, 
 The phonograph's the only one 
 From whose singing he don't run. 
 
 84 
 
The Phonograph 
 
 We boys holler, yell and laugh 
 And imitate the phonograph; 
 But if we think that Pa's about 
 You can bet we all look out. 
 
 When we give a great big show, 
 The phonograph's our band, you know. 
 The music comes in lovely strains 
 As the machine blows out its brains. 
 
 And now I surely hope and pray 
 Some good man will come this way 
 With a machine that will walk 
 And flv around as well as talk. 
 
/ Really Meant It — When I Wrote It 
 
 Here's to the prettiest girl in the world, 
 With eyes of brown and hair most curled, 
 Her stately carriage is that of a queen, 
 Such form and figure is seldom seen. 
 When on her lips I plant a kiss, 
 I taste the joy of rapturous bliss, 
 When she tips the glass of sparkling wine, 
 Her radiant beauty does on me shine, 
 I drink the effervescence of her smiles 
 And live in hope of the afterwhiles. 
 
 86 
 
/ '#• I 
 
To—fl Wont Tell Who) 
 
 In a motor car alone with thee, 
 
 A drive in the evening shade, 
 To dine and chat 'neath the garden tree, 
 
 As the sun sinks o'er the glade. 
 A bird and a few of your clever rimes 
 
 And a sparkling iced one too, 
 While your silvery voice, melodiously chimes 
 
 And pierces my heart through and through. 
 
 87 
 
An Accepted Invitation 
 
 Could thou but lend to me an hour 
 To dine 'neath many a leaf and flower, 
 I'd drink the sparkle of thy evening muse 
 And exchange with thee, our different views 
 While thy rhythmic laughter, and thy radiant smiles 
 Are the soul of sweet melodv, all the whiles. 
 
Were I ''-Passed Uf' 
 
 Had you my invitation not accepted 
 
 Empty would the wine glass stand, 
 And dainty viands go untasted 
 
 And ne'er defiled by other hand. 
 Discordant would the music sound 
 
 Were your smiling face not here, 
 While laughing levity all around 
 
 Blends with tones of joy and cheer. 
 
 89 
 
Christmas Card 
 
 May your tree of life on Christmas day 
 Be filled with happiness in a christian way, 
 And your troubles and sorrows be but few 
 And fade away as the morning dew. 
 
 May your days be many and filled with peace 
 Is the wish of your loving, affectionate niece. 
 
 90 
 
Sent with a Christmas Veil 
 
 I send this, not thy Christmas smiles to hide, 
 Nor may'st it veil thy Christmas joy and pride 
 I trust it will thy stately figure grace 
 And keep the sunbeams off thy face. 
 
 91 
 
Holy Me a?td Sinner Thou 
 
 They who say I'm holier than thou, 
 Will bear much watching by thee, I vow 
 And if their deeds they'd now expose, 
 They'd lower much their upturned nose. 
 
 92 
 
Birthday 
 
 This is the day for a sip of wine, 
 
 And this^is the day for a jolly good time. 
 
 Oh! wouldn'tfit be just sublime 
 
 If on this day I'd call ye mine? 
 
 9Z 
 
The Critic 
 
 The critic with an egotistic pose, 
 
 So prone to slur a neighbor, 
 Has nothing done, the Good Lord knows, 
 
 The family name to favor. 
 
 94 
 
Real Love 
 
 The sun may rise, 
 The sun may set, 
 
 The moon shine bright and set, 
 But stars still dot the firmament. 
 
 But yet, Oh ! yet 
 Real love can't set, 
 
 But brighter, brighter get, 
 
 A fixed star in life's firmament. 
 
 95 
 
My Choice 
 
 'Pon me word 'twixt beer and water, 
 I'd choose the beer though I may totter, 
 And when it comes to wine or grog, 
 I choose the wine to chase the grog. 
 
 96 
 
Truth 
 
 If at all times ye tell the truth, 
 In Heaven should you abide forsooth. 
 But while upon this earthly sphere, 
 A cross you'll carry while you're here. 
 And if your neighbors could but do it, 
 They sure would nail ye fast onto it. 
 
 97 
 
To my Friend^ George B, Gaston 
 
 My dear friend of the long ago 
 Of our good times we only know. 
 
 Might we reverse the day and go 
 Back to the dear old long ago. 
 
 Journeying backward to and fro, 
 Hither and thither as on we go. 
 
 Oh! ye last milestone or so, 
 Lead us back to the long ago. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 018 378 316 6