Cape Cod Ballads, and Other Verse | Page 7

ever wuz, Talkin' gush and actin' silly, same as that kind always does.
Then, we'll ride home when it's dark'nin' and the leaves are wet with dew, And the lightnin'-bugs are sparklin' and the moon is shinin', too; We'll sing "Jingle bells" and "Sailing," "Seein' Nelly home," and more; And that one that's slow and wailin', "Home ag'in from somethin' shore." Then a feller's awful sleepy and he kinder wants ter rest,?But the stuff he's et feels creepy and like bricks piled on his chest; And, perhaps, he dreams his stummick has been stepped on by a mule; But it ain't: it's jest the picnic of the Baptist Sunday school!

"AUNT 'MANDY"
Our Aunt 'Mandy thinks that boys?Never ought ter make a noise,?Or go swimming or play ball,?Or have any fun at all;?Thinks a boy had ought ter be?Dressed up all the time, and she?Hollers jest as if she's hurt?At the littlest mite er dirt?On a feller's hands or face,?Or his clothes, or any place.
Then at dinner-time she's there,?Sayin', "Mustn't kick the chair!"?Or "Why don't yer sit up straight?"?"'Tain't perlite to drum yer plate."?An' yer got ter eat as slow,?'Cause she's dingin' at yer so.?Then, when Chris'mus comes, she brings?Nothin', only useful things:?Han'kershi'fs an' gloves an' ties,?Sunday stuff yer jest despise.
She's a ole maid, all alone,?'Thout no children of her own,?An' I s'pose that makes her fuss?'Round our house a-bossin' us.?If she 'd had a boy, I bet,?'Tween her bossin' and her fret?She'd a-killed him, jest about;?So God made her do without,?For he knew no boy could stay?With Aunt 'Mandy every day.

THE STORY-BOOK BOY
Oh, the story-book boy! he's a wonderful youth,?A prodigy reeking with goodness and truth;?As brave as a lion, as wise as a sage,?And sharp as a razor, though twelve years of age.?His mother is good and she's awfully poor,?But he says, "Do not fret, I'll provide for you, sure!"?And the hard grasping landlord, who comes to annoy,?Is braved to his teeth by the story-book boy.
Oh, the story-book boy! when he sees that young churl.?The Squire's spoiled son, kick the poor crippled girl,?He darts to the rescue as quick as he can,?And dusts the hard road with the cruel young man;?And when he is sought by the vengeful old Squire,?He withers the latter with tongue-lashing ire;?For the town might combine his young nerve to destroy,?And never once shake him--the story-book boy.
[Illustration: "And with--ahem--era--I said before."]
Oh, the story-book boy! when the Judge's dear child?Is dragged through the streets by a runaway wild,?Of course he's on hand, and a "ten-strike" he makes,?For he stops the mad steed in a couple of "shakes";?And he tells the glad Judge, who has wept on his hat,?"I did but my duty!" or something like that;?And the very best place in the Judge's employ?Is picked out at once for the story-book boy.
Oh, the story-book boy! all his troubles are o'er,?For he gets to be Judge in a year or two more;?And the wicked old landlord in poverty dies,?And the Squire's son drinks, and in gutters he lies;?But the girl whom he saved is our hero's fair bride,?And his old mother comes to their home to abide;?In silks and sealskins, she cries, in her joy:?"Thank Heaven, I'm Ma of a story-book boy!"

THE SCHOOL-COMMITTEE MAN
Sometimes when we're in school, and it's the afternoon and late, And kinder warm and sleepy, don't yer know;?And p'r'aps a feller's studyin' or writin' on his slate,?Or, maybe chewin' paper-balls to throw,?And teacher's sort er lazy, too--why, then there'll come a knock And everybody'll brace up quick's they can;?We boys and girls'll set up straight, and teacher'll smooth her frock, Because it's him--the school-committee man.
He'll walk in kinder stately-like and say, "How do, Miss Brown?" And teacher, she'll talk sweet as choclate cake;?And he'll put on his specs and cough and pull his eyebrows down And look at us so hard 't would make yer shake.?We'll read and spell, so's he can hear, and speak a piece or two, While he sets there so dreadful grand and cool;?Then teacher'll rap her desk and say, "Attention!" soon's we're through, And ask him, won't he please address the school.
He'll git up kinder calm and slow, and blow his nose real loud, And put his hands behind beneath his coat,?Then kinder balance on his toes and look 'round sort er proud And give a big "Ahem!" ter clear his throat;?And then he'll say: "Dear scholars, I am glad ter see yer here, A-drinkin'--er--the crystal fount of lore;?Here with your books, and--er--and--er--your teacher kind and dear, And with--ahem--er--as I said before."
We have ter listen awful hard ter every word of his?And watch him jest like kittens do a rat,?And laugh at every joke he makes, don't care how old it is, 'Cause he can boss the teacher,--think of that!?I useter say, when I growed up I 'd be a