Love-Songs of Childhood | Page 8

I sadly fear
The battle and
my hopes are lost,
Unless some help appear!"
Lo, as she spoke, she saw afar
The rescuer looming up -
The pride
of all Buena Park,
Clow's famous yellow pup!
"Now, sick'em, Don," the maiden cried,
"Now, sick'em, Don!" cried
she;
Obedient Don at once complied -
As ordered, so did he.
He sicked'em all so passing well
That, overcome by fright,
The
Indian horde gave up the fray
And safety sought in flight.
They ran and ran and ran and ran
O'er valley, plain, and hill;
And if
they are not walking now,
Why, then, they're running still.
The cow-boys rose up from the dust
With faces black and blue;

"Remember, beauteous maid," said they,
"We've bled and died for

you!"
"And though we suffer grievously,
We gladly hail the lot
That
brings us toils and pains and wounds
For charming Sissy Knott!"
But Sissy Knott still wailed and wept,
And still her fate reviled;
For
who could patch her dolly up -
Who, who could mend her child?
Then out her doting mother came,
And soothed her daughter then;

"Grieve not, my darling, I will sew
Your dolly up again!"
Joy soon succeeded unto grief,
And tears were soon dried up,
And
dignities were heaped upon
Clow's noble yellow pup.
Him all that goodly company
Did as deliverer hail -
They tied a
ribbon round his neck,
Another round his tail.
And every anniversary day
Upon the Waller Lot
They celebrate the
victory won
For charming Sissy Knott.
And I, the poet of these folk,
Am ordered to compile
This truly
famous history
In good old ballad style.
Which having done as to have earned
The sweet rewards of fame,

In what same style I did begin
I now shall end the same.
So let us sing: Long live the King,
Long live the Queen and Jack,

Long live the ten-spot and the ace,
And also all the pack.
THE STORK
Last night the Stork came stalking,
And, Stork, beneath your wing

Lay, lapped in dreamless slumber,
The tiniest little thing!
From
Babyland, out yonder
Beside a silver sea,
You brought a priceless
treasure
As gift to mine and me!

Last night my dear one listened -
And, wife, you knew the cry -
The
dear old Stork has sought our home
A many times gone by!
And in
your gentle bosom
I found the pretty thing
That from the realm out
yonder
Our friend the Stork did bring.
Last night a babe awakened,
And, babe, how strange and new
Must
seem the home and people
The Stork has brought you to;
And yet
methinks you like them -
You neither stare nor weep,
But closer to
my dear one
You cuddle, and you sleep!
Last night my heart grew fonder -
0 happy heart of mine,
Sing of
the inspirations
That round my pathway shine!
And sing your
sweetest love-song
To this dear nestling wee
The Stork from
'Way-Out-Yonder
Hath brought to mine and me!
THE BOTTLE TREE
A bottle tree bloometh in Winkyway land -
Heigh-ho for a bottle, I
say!
A snug little berth in that ship I demand
That rocketh the
Bottle-Tree babies away
Where the Bottle Tree bloometh by night
and by day
And reacheth its fruit to each wee, dimpled hand;
You
take of that fruit as much as you list,
For colic's a nuisance that
doesn't exist!
So cuddle me and cuddle me fast,
And cuddle me
snug in my cradle away,
For I hunger and thirst for that precious
repast -
Heigh-ho for a bottle, I say!
The Bottle Tree bloometh by night and by day!
Heigh-ho for
Winkyway land!
And Bottle-Tree fruit (as I've heard people say)

Makes bellies of Bottle-Tree babies expand -
And that is a trick I
would fain understand!
Heigh-ho for a bottle to-day!
And heigh-ho
for a bottle to-night -
A bottle of milk that is creamy and white!
So
cuddle me close, and cuddle me fast,
And cuddle me snug in my
cradle away,
For I hunger and thirst for that precious repast -

Heigh-ho for a bottle, I say!

GOOGLY-GO0
Of mornings, bright and early,
When the lark is on the wing
And
the robin in the maple
Hops from her nest to sing,
From yonder
cheery chamber
Cometh a mellow coo -
'T is the sweet, persuasive
treble
Of my little Googly-Goo!
The sunbeams hear his music,
And they seek his little bed,
And
they dance their prettiest dances
Round his golden curly head:

Schottisches, galops, minuets,
Gavottes and waltzes, too,
Dance
they unto the music
Of my googling Googly-Goo.
My heart - my heart it leapeth
To hear that treble tone;
What music
like thy music,
My darling and mine own!
And patiently - yes,
cheerfully
I toil the long day through -
My labor seemeth lightened

By the song of Googly-Goo!
I may not see his antics,
Nor kiss his dimpled cheek:
I may not
smooth the tresses
The sunbeams love to seek;
It mattereth not - the
echo
Of his sweet, persuasive coo
Recurreth to remind me
Of my
little Googly-Goo.
And when I come at evening,
I stand without the door
And
patiently I listen
For that dear sound once more;
And oftentimes I
wonder,
"Oh, God! what should I do
If any ill should happen
To
my little Googly-Goo!"
Then in affright I call him -
I hear his gleeful shouts!
Begone, ye
dread forebodings -
Begone, ye killing doubts!
For, with my arms
about him,

My heart warms through and through
With the oogling
and the googling
Of