The Bay and Padie Book | Page 4

tasselled hoods,?Mantles soft that flow and fall,?All the very best of foods,?All the very best of all.
Babies must have songs for sleep,?Anxious watchings night and day,?Kisses if they laugh or weep,?So the ripe hours rush away.
And for this we pay (it seems?We may not serve visions, too)?With our high neglected dreams,?With great things we meant to do.
FATHER SONG
They mean such a wonderful lot to me,?It's quite absurd how my soul is smitten?With Padie, who's four, and Bay, who's three,?And Sufi, a Persian kitten!
So mother must worry, and father must fuss,?But I'll fake these songs to a sadder version?When manhood steals the boys from us,?And the Bottle-o pinches the Persian!
SUNDAY DINNER
The butcher comed and he bringed no meat,?But he crawled in the poultry pen,?And he putted his hand among they feet,?And catched the father hen.
He catched it as hard as anything,?But it didn't once crowed at all,?And he tied its feet with a bundle of string?And hanged it up on the wall.
And now and again its wings went flap,?But that didn't frighten me!?I runned for my little brother chap?To come outside and see.
The father hen's not crowing now,?The ittooest ittoo bit;?We're going to tell our father how?The butcher's hurted it!
Our father has mended the bathroom door?And the leg of the rocking chair:?He mended the fence long time before,?And he bought my horse some hair.
He made the bikes so they wouldn't squeal,?And he made the bunny to talk;?He hammered some tacks in the engine wheel?When the engine couldn't walk.
And he cured the teddy when it was dead,?And he mended the barrow for me--?So father will mend the rooster's head?Before he haves his tea.
THE CONCERT IN THE GARDEN
The wheelbarrow wept to the willows?And Padie called out for a hymn:?He dabbled his boots on the pillows?And the minister looked quite grim.
While the Emu turned the pages?The Wallaby sang with zest,?Of the error in uncle's wages?While the chairs all turned to the West.
The Baker paused with a frigid stare?And his heels apart, of course;?And the shell-back sprang from his sunny lair?With his hand upon his horse.
The rooster's grandma nursed the cat,?Which uttered nor purr nor sound,?While the Platypus followed the Minister's hat?Around and round and round.
WHISPER!!!
Sit up in your beds and hark!?Something said "meow" in the dark!?Was it a gentleman saying some prayers??Was it a mousie trapped under the stairs??Was it a manager stealing some shares?Or a newspaper having a lark??Sit up in your beds and hark!?Something said "meow" in the dark!?Would you your treasures securely keep,?Never turn lamps out and never go sleep.
THE COMING OF BAY
Bay doesn't stay in the stars any more;?He didn't much cry nor care?When God pushed him out of a big star door?Into the everywhere.
I ringed him up on the telephome?And down he flied to me!?Didn't you know how Bay came home??I got the push-cart, see??And wheeled him in the front-yard door?Just one way and another,?I didn't make mud-marks on the floor,?Or scratch the paint on the front-way door,?'Cos I am a careful brother;?I putted him into the new white cot,?I covered him up till he grew quite hot,?And then called mother to see;?So Bay doesn't stay in the stars any more?But only with mother and me.
BABY SONG
The grandmas talked with worried eyes?And said it was a shame--?Nobody wanted Littley then?Before our Littley came.
Boyo's nose will be out of joint,?He's a toddling baby yet,?And now there's another one coming along,?Poor little pet!
But Littley rode through the storm of doubt?And the cloud of the troubled brow;?Nobody wanted Littley then--?But you should hear them now!
SOUL DISCIPLINE
They say I'm a bad-tempered man,?And yet I never swear?When flop into my porridge?Comes a woolly Teddy Bear!
They say I'm an impatient man,?And yet I never shoot?When, after breakfasting, I find?Damp toffy in my boot!
And when my wife and my two sons?Are dutifully kissed,?I don't go crook if I'm called back?When Sufi has been missed!
I'm always on the scowl and quick?To censure or condemn;?But, somehow things seem different?With little boys like them.
WEEP SONG
Strike, strike, strike again,?Bump them on the head;?Every minute somebody,?Falls down dead.
Algernons and Berts?Washing out their shirts,?Babies in the bed?Crying for some bread.?Gentlemen with brains,?Looking for their trains.
Strike, strike, strike again,?Always on the head;?Every minute somebody?Drops down dead.
MASTER IN EQUITY
Did I hear the two boys say,?"Two boys have been good to-day?"?Santa's schooner's lost a sail,?Someone tored it with a nail,?What's that mark on Sufi's tail??I dunno, da you??Did boys eat they trifle slow?When they mother told them to??I dunno, I dunno,?I dunno, da you?
Who's been cutting Sufi's hair??There's a broken dish I see;?Padie, don't be hiding there,?Bring my slippers out to me.?Both boys have been good they say,?Only cried an ittoo bit;?Anyone been fighting Bay,?Two new scars since yesterday??That was just a weeny hit,?'Cos he'd always want to sit?On the picture of the train?Just when I was reading it.?Two boys have been good again.?Two boys