Love-Songs of Childhood | Page 5

down off her perch an' wonders what's become Of them two enemies of
hern that used to make things hum!
But I am so perlite an' 'tend so
earnestly to biz,
That mother says to father: "How improved our
Willie is!"
But father, havin' been a boy hisself, suspicions me

When, jest 'fore Christmas, I'm as good as I kin be!
For Christmas, with its lots an' lots of candies, cakes, an' toys, Was
made, they say, for proper kids an' not for naughty boys; So wash yer
face an' bresh yer hair, an' mind yer p's and q's, An' don't bust out yer
pantaloons, and don't wear out yer shoes; Say "Yessum" to the ladies,
an' "Yessur" to the men,
An' when they's company, don't pass yer
plate for pie again; But, thinkin' of the things yer'd like to see upon that
tree, Jest 'fore Christmas be as good as yer kin be!
BEARD AND BABY
I say, as one who never feared
The wrath of a subscriber's bullet,
I
pity him who has a beard
But has no little girl to pull it!
When wife and I have finished tea,
Our baby woos me with her
prattle,
And, perching proudly on my knee,
She gives my petted
whiskers battle.
With both her hands she tugs away,
While scolding at me kind o'
spiteful;
You'll not believe me when I say
I find the torture quite
delightful!
No other would presume, I ween,
To trifle with this hirsute wonder,

Else would I rise in vengeful mien
And rend his vandal frame
asunder!

But when her baby fingers pull
This glossy, sleek, and silky treasure,

My cup of happiness is full -
I fairly glow with pride and pleasure!
And, sweeter still, through all the day
I seem to hear her winsome
prattle -
I seem to feel her hands at play,
As though they gave me
sportive battle.
Yes, heavenly music seems to steal
Where thought of her forever
lingers,
And round my heart I always feel
The twining of her
dimpled fingers!
THE DINKEY BIRD
In an ocean, 'way out yonder
(As all sapient people know),
Is the
land of Wonder-Wander,
Whither children love to go;
It's their
playing, romping, swinging,
That give great joy to me
While the
Dinkey-Bird goes singing
In the amfalula tree!
There the gum-drops grow like cherries,
And taffy's thick as peas -

Caramels you pick like berries
When, and where, and how you please;

Big red sugar-plums are clinging
To the cliffs beside that sea

Where the Dinkey-Bird is singing
In the amfalula tree.
So when children shout and scamper
And make merry all the day,

When there's naught to put a damper
To the ardor of their play;

When I hear their laughter ringing,
Then I'm sure as sure can be

That the Dinkey-Bird is singing
In the amfalula tree.
For the Dinkey-Bird's bravuras
And staccatos are so sweet -
His
roulades, appoggiaturas,
And robustos so complete,
That the youth
of every nation -
Be they near or far away -
Have especial
delectation
In that gladsome roundelay.
Their eyes grow bright and brighter,
Their lungs begin to crow,

Their hearts get light and lighter,
And their cheeks are all aglow;


For an echo cometh bringing
The news to all and me,
That the
Dinkey-Bird is singing
In the amfalula tree.
I'm sure you like to go there
To see your feathered friend -
And so
many goodies grow there
You would like to comprehend!
Speed,
little dreams, your winging
To that land across the sea
Where the
Dinkey-Bird is singing
In the amfalula tree!
THE DRUM
I'm a beautiful red, red drum,
And I train with the soldier boys;
As
up the street we come,
Wonderful is our noise!
There's Tom, and
Jim, and Phil,
And Dick, and Nat, and Fred,
While Widow Cutler's
Bill
And I march on ahead,
With a r-r-rat-tat-tat
And a
tum-titty-um-tum-tum -
Oh, there's bushels of fun in that
For boys
with a little red drum!
The Injuns came last night
While the soldiers were abed,
And they
gobbled a Chinese kite
And off to the woods they fled!
The woods
are the cherry-trees
Down in the orchard lot,
And the soldiers are
marching to seize
The booty the Injuns got.
With
tum-titty-um-tum-tum,
And r-r-rat-tat-tat,
When soldiers marching
come
Injuns had better scat!
Step up there, little Fred,
And, Charley, have a mind!
Jim is as far
ahead
As you two are behind!
Ready with gun and sword
Your
valorous work to do -
Yonder the Injun horde
Are lying in wait for
you.
And their hearts go pitapat
When they hear the soldiers come

With a r-r-rat-tat-tat
And a tum-titty-um-tum-tum!
Course it's all in play!
The skulking Injun crew
That hustled the kite
away
Are little white boys, like you!
But "honest" or "just in fun,"

It is all the same to me;
And, when the battle is won,
Home once
again march we
With a r-r-rat-tat-tat
And tum-titty-um-tum-tum;


And there's glory enough in that
For the boys with their little red
drum!
THE DEAD BABE
Last night, as my dear babe lay dead,
In agony I knelt and said:
"0
God! what have I done,
Or in what wise offended Thee,
That Thou
should'st take away from me
My little son?
"Upon the thousand useless lives,
Upon the guilt that vaunting thrives,

Thy wrath were better spent!
Why should'st Thou take my little son
-
Why should'st Thou vent Thy wrath upon
This innocent?"
Last night,