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+Project Gutenberg Etext Love-Songs of Childhood, by Eugene Field
+#2 in our series by Eugene Field
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+Title:  Love-Songs of Childhood
+
+Author:  Eugene Field
+
+June, 2001  [Etext #2670]
+
+
+Project Gutenberg Etext Love-Songs of Childhood, by Eugene Field
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+
+
+
+Love-Songs of Childhood
+
+by Eugene Field
+
+
+
+
+To Mrs. Belle Angler
+
+
+
+
+
+Dearest Aunt:
+
+Many years ago you used to rock me to sleep, cradling me in your
+arms and singing me petty songs.  Surely you have not forgotten
+that time, and I recall it with tenderness.  You were very
+beautiful then.  But you are more beautiful now; for, in the years
+that have come and gone since then, the joys and the sorrows of
+maternity have impressed their saintly grace upon the dear face I
+used to kiss, and have made your gentle heart gentler still.
+
+Beloved lady, in memory of years to be recalled only in thought,
+and in token of my gratitude and affection, I bring you these
+little love-songs, and reverently I lay them at your feet.
+
+Eugene Field
+Chicago, November 1, 1894
+
+
+
+THE LOVE-SONGS
+
+By Eugene Field
+
+
+THE ROCK-A-BY LADY
+"BOOH"!
+GARDEN AND CRADLE
+THE NIGHT WIND
+KISSING TIME
+JEST 'FORE CHRISTMAS
+BEARD AND BABY
+THE DINKEY-BIRD
+THE DRUM
+THE DEAD BABE
+THE HAPPY HOUSEHOLD
+So, so, ROCK-A-BY SO!
+THE SONG OF LUDDY-DUD
+THE DUEL
+GOOD-CHILDREN STREET
+THE DELECTABLE BALLAD OF THE WALLER LOT
+THE STORK
+THE BOTTLE TREE
+GOOGLY-GOO
+THE BENCH-LEGGED FYCE
+LITTLE MISS BRAG
+THE HUMMING TOP
+LADY BUTTON-EYES
+THE RIDE TO BUMPVILLE
+THE BROOK
+PICNIC-TIME
+SHUFFLE-SHOON AND AMBER-LOCKS
+THE SHUT-EYE TRAIN
+LITTLE-OH-DEAR
+THE FLY-AWAY HORSE
+SWING HIGH AND SWING LOW
+WHEN I WAS A BOY
+AT PLAY
+A VALENTINE
+LITTLE ALL-ALONEY
+SEEIN' THINGS
+THE CUNNIN' LITTLE THING
+THE DOLL'S WOOING
+INSCRIPTION FOR MY LITTLE SON'S SILVER PLATE
+FISHERMAN JIM'S KIDS
+"FIDDLE-DEE-DEE"
+OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY
+
+
+
+
+THE ROCK-A-BY LADY
+
+The Rock-a-By Lady from Hushaby street
+Comes stealing; comes creeping;
+The poppies they hang from her head to her feet,
+And each hath a dream that is tiny and fleet -
+She bringeth her poppies to you, my sweet,
+When she findeth you sleeping!
+
+There is one little dream of a beautiful drum -
+"Rub-a-dub!" it goeth;
+There is one little dream of a big sugar-plum,
+And lo! thick and fast the other dreams come
+Of popguns that bang, and tin tops that hum,
+And a trumpet that bloweth!
+
+And dollies peep out of those wee little dreams
+With laughter and singing;
+And boats go a-floating on silvery streams,
+And the stars peek-a-boo with their own misty gleams,
+And up, up, and up, where the Mother Moon beams,
+The fairies go winging!
+
+Would you dream all these dreams that are tiny and fleet?
+They'll come to you sleeping;
+So shut the two eyes that are weary, my sweet,
+For the Rock-a-By Lady from Hushaby street,
+With poppies that hang from her head to her feet,
+Comes stealing; comes creeping.
+
+
+
+"BOOH!"
+
+On afternoons, when baby boy has had a splendid nap,
+And sits, like any monarch on his throne, in nurse's lap,
+In some such wise my handkerchief I hold before my face,
+And cautiously and quietly I move about the place;
+Then, with a cry, I suddenly expose my face to view,
+And you should hear him laugh and crow when I say "Booh"!
+
+Sometimes the rascal tries to make believe that he is scared,
+And really, when I first began, he stared, and stared, and stared;
+And then his under lip came out and farther out it came,
+Till mamma and the nurse agreed it was a "cruel shame" -
+But now what does that same wee, toddling, lisping baby do
+But laugh and kick his little heels when I say "Booh!"
+
+He laughs and kicks his little heels in rapturous glee, and then
+In shrill, despotic treble bids me "do it all aden!"
+And I - of course I do it; for, as his progenitor,
+It is such pretty, pleasant play as this that I am for!
+And it is, oh, such fun I and sure that we shall rue
+The time when we are both too old to play the game "Booh!"
+
+
+
+GARDEN AND CRADLE
+
+When our babe he goeth walking in his garden,
+Around his tinkling feet the sunbeams play;
+The posies they are good to him,
+And bow them as they should to him,
+As fareth he upon his kingly way;
+And birdlings of the wood to him
+Make music, gentle music, all the day,
+When our babe he goeth walking in his garden.
+
+When our babe he goeth swinging in his cradle,
+Then the night it looketh ever sweetly down;
+The little stars are kind to him,
+The moon she hath a mind to him
+And layeth on his head a golden crown;
+And singeth then the wind to him
+A song, the gentle song of Bethlem-town,
+When our babe he goeth swinging in his cradle.
+
+
+
+THE NIGHT WIND
+
+Have you ever heard the wind go "Yooooo"?
+'T is a pitiful sound to hear!
+It seems to chill you through and through
+With a strange and speechless fear.
+'T is the voice of the night that broods outside
+When folk should be asleep,
+And many and many's the time I've cried
+To the darkness brooding far and wide
+Over the land and the deep:
+Whom do you want, O lonely night,
+That you wail the long hours through?"
+And the night would say in its ghostly way:
+    "Yoooooooo!
+     Yoooooooo!
+     Yoooooooo!"
+
+My mother told me long ago
+(When I was a little tad)
+That when the night went wailing so,
+Somebody had been bad;
+And then, when I was snug in bed,
+Whither I had been sent,
+With the blankets pulled up round my head,
+I'd think of what my mother'd said,
+And wonder what boy she meant!
+And "Who's been bad to-day?" I'd ask
+Of the wind that hoarsely blew,
+And the voice would say in its meaningful way:
+    "Yoooooooo!
+     Yoooooooo!
+     Yoooooooo!"
+
+That this was true I must allow -
+You'll not believe it, though!
+Yes, though I'm quite a model now,
+I was not always so.
+And if you doubt what things I say,
+Suppose you make the test;
+Suppose, when you've been bad some day
+And up to bed are sent away
+From mother and the rest -
+Suppose you ask, "Who has been bad?"
+And then you'll hear what's true;
+For the wind will moan in its ruefulest tone:
+    "Yoooooooo!
+     Yoooooooo!
+     Yoooooooo!"
+
+
+
+KISSING TIME
+
+'T is when the lark goes soaring
+And the bee is at the bud,
+When lightly dancing zephyrs
+Sing over field and flood;
+When all sweet things in nature
+Seem joyfully achime -
+'T is then I wake my darling,
+For it is kissing time!
+
+Go, pretty lark, a-soaring,
+And suck your sweets, 0 bee;
+Sing, 0 ye winds of summer,
+Your songs to mine and me;
+For with your song and rapture
+Cometh the moment when
+It's half-past kissing time
+And time to kiss again!
+
+So - so the days go fleeting
+Like golden fancies free,
+And every day that cometh
+Is full of sweets for me;
+And sweetest are those moments
+My darling comes to climb
+Into my lap to mind me
+That it is kissing time.
+
+Sometimes, maybe, he wanders
+A heedless, aimless way -
+Sometimes, maybe, he loiters
+In pretty, prattling play;
+But presently bethinks him
+And hastens to me then,
+For it's half-past kissing time
+And time to kiss again!
+
+
+
+JEST 'FORE CHRISTMAS
+
+Father calls me William, sister calls me Will,
+Mother calls me Willie, but the fellers call me Bill!
+Mighty glad I ain't a girl - ruther be a boy,
+Without them sashes, curls, an' things that's worn by Fauntleroy!
+Love to chawnk green apples an' go swimmin' in the lake -
+Hate to take the castor-ile they give for bellyache!
+'Most all the time, the whole year round, there ain't no flies on me,
+But jest 'fore Christmas I'm as good as I kin be!
+
+Got a yeller dog named Sport, sick him on the cat;
+First thing she knows she doesn't know where she is at!
+Got a clipper sled, an' when us kids goes out to slide,
+'Long comes the grocery cart, an' we all hook a ride!
+But sometimes when the grocery man is worrited an' cross,
+He reaches at us with his whip, an' larrups up his hoss,
+An' then I laff an' holler, "Oh, ye never teched me!"
+But jest 'fore Christmas I'm as good as I kin be!
+
+Gran'ma says she hopes that when I git to be a man,
+I'll be a missionarer like her oldest brother, Dan,
+As was et up by the cannibuls that lives in Ceylon's Isle,
+Where every prospeck pleases, an' only man is vile!
+But gran'ma she has never been to see a Wild West show,
+Nor read the Life of Daniel Boone, or else I guess she'd know
+That Buff'lo Bill an' cow-boys is good enough for me!
+Excep' jest 'fore Christmas, when I'm good as I kin be!
+
+And then old Sport he hangs around, so solemn-like an' still,
+His eyes they seem a-sayin': "What's the matter, little Bill?"
+The old cat sneaks 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, as my dear babe lay dead,
+Before mine eyes the vision spread
+Of things that might have been:
+Licentious riot, cruel strife,
+Forgotten prayers, a wasted life
+Dark red with sin!
+
+Then, with sweet music in the air,
+I saw another vision there:
+A Shepherd in whose keep
+A little lamb - my little child!
+Of worldly wisdom undefiled,
+Lay fast asleep!
+
+Last night, as my dear babe lay dead,
+In those two messages I read
+A wisdom manifest;
+And though my arms be childless now,
+I am content - to Him I bow
+Who knoweth best.
+
+
+
+THE HAPPY HOUSEHOLD
+
+It's when the birds go piping and the daylight slowly breaks,
+That, clamoring for his dinner, our precious baby wakes;
+Then it's sleep no more for baby, and it's sleep no more for me,
+For, when he wants his dinner, why it's dinner it must be!
+And of that lacteal fluid he partakes with great ado,
+  While gran'ma laughs,
+  And gran'pa laughs,
+  And wife, she laughs,
+  And I - well, I laugh, too!
+
+You'd think, to see us carrying on about that little tad,
+That, like as not, that baby was the first we'd ever had;
+But, sakes alive! he isn't, yet we people make a fuss
+As if the only baby in the world had come to us!
+And, morning, noon, and night-time, whatever he may do,
+  Gran'ma, she laughs,
+  Gran'pa, he laughs,
+  Wife, she laughs,
+  And I, of course, laugh, too!
+
+But once - a likely spell ago - when that poor little chick
+From teething or from some such ill of infancy fell sick,
+You wouldn't know us people as the same that went about
+A-feelin' good all over, just to hear him crow and shout;
+And, though the doctor poohed our fears and said he'd pull him through,
+  Old gran'ma cried,
+  And gran'pa cried,
+  And wife, she cried,
+  And I - yes, I cried, too!
+
+It makes us all feel good to have a baby on the place,
+With his everlastin' crowing and his dimpling, dumpling face;
+The patter of his pinky feet makes music everywhere,
+And when he shakes those fists of his, good-by to every care!
+No matter what our trouble is, when he begins to coo,
+  Old gran'ma laughs,
+  And gran'pa laughs,
+  Wife, she laughs,
+  And I - you bet, I laugh, too!
+
+
+
+SO, SO, ROCK-A-BY SO!
+
+So, so, rock-a-by so!
+Off to the garden where dreamikins grow;
+And here is a kiss on your winkyblink eyes,
+And here is a kiss on your dimpledown cheek
+And here is a kiss for the treasure that lies
+In the beautiful garden way up in the skies
+Which you seek.
+Now mind these three kisses wherever you go -
+So, so, rock-a-by so!
+
+There's one little fumfay who lives there, I know,
+For he dances all night where the dreamikins grow;
+I send him this kiss on your droopydrop eyes,
+I send him this kiss on your rosyred cheek.
+And here is a kiss for the dream that shall rise
+When the fumfay shall dance in those far-away skies
+Which you seek.
+Be sure that you pay those three kisses you owe -
+So, so, rock-a-by so!
+
+And, by-low, as you rock-a-by go,
+Don't forget mother who loveth you so!
+And here is her kiss on your weepydeep eyes,
+And here is her kiss on your peachypink cheek,
+And here is her kiss for the dreamland that lies
+Like a babe on the breast of those far-away skies
+Which you seek -
+The blinkywink garden where dreamikins grow -
+So, so, rock-a-by so!
+
+
+
+THE SONG OF LUDDY-DUD
+
+A sunbeam comes a-creeping
+Into my dear one's nest,
+And sings to our babe a-sleeping
+The song that I love the best:
+"'T is little Luddy-Dud in the morning -
+'T is little Luddy-Dud at night;
+And all day long
+'T is the same sweet song
+Of that waddling, toddling, coddling little mite,
+Luddy-Dud."
+
+The bird to the tossing clover,
+The bee to the swaying bud,
+Keep singing that sweet song over
+Of wee little Luddy-Dud.
+"'T is little Luddy-Dud in the morning -
+'T is little Luddy-Dud at night;
+And all day long
+'T is the same dear song
+Of that growing, crowing, knowing little sprite,
+Luddy-Dud."
+
+Luddy-Dud's cradle is swinging
+Where softly the night winds blow,
+And Luddy-Dud's mother is singing
+A song that is sweet and low:
+"'T is little Luddy-Dud in the morning -
+'T is little Luddy-Dud at night;
+And all day long
+'T is the same sweet song
+Of my nearest and my dearest heart's delight,
+Luddy-Dud!"
+
+
+
+THE DUEL
+
+The gingham dog and the calico cat
+Side by side on the table sat;
+'T was half-past twelve, and (what do you think!)
+Nor one nor t' other had slept a wink!
+The old Dutch clock and the Chinese plate
+Appeared to know as sure as fate
+There was going to be a terrible spat.
+(I wasn't there; I simply state
+What was told to me by the Chinese plate!)
+
+The gingham dog went "bow-wow-wow!"
+And the calico cat replied "mee-ow!"
+The air was littered, an hour or so,
+With bits of gingham and calico,
+While the old Dutch clock in the chimney place
+Up with its hands before its face,
+For it always dreaded a family row!
+(Now mind: I'm only telling you
+What the old Dutch clock declares is true!)
+
+The Chinese plate looked very blue,
+And wailed, "Oh, dear! what shall we do!"
+But the gingham dog and the calico cat
+Wallowed this way and tumbled that,
+Employing every tooth and claw
+In the awfullest way you ever saw -
+And, oh! how the gingham and calico flew!
+(Don't fancy I exaggerate -
+I got my news from the Chinese plate!)
+
+Next morning, where the two had sat
+They found no trace of dog or cat;
+And some folks think unto this day
+That burglars stole that pair away!
+But the truth about the cat and pup
+Is this: they ate each other up!
+Now what do you really think of that!
+(The old Dutch clock it told me so,
+And that is how I came to know.)
+
+
+
+GOOD-CHILDREN STREET
+
+There's a dear little home in Good-Children street -
+My heart turneth fondly to-day
+Where tinkle of tongues and patter of feet
+Make sweetest of music at play;
+Where the sunshine of love illumines each face
+And warms every heart in that old-fashioned place.
+
+For dear little children go romping about
+With dollies and tin tops and drums,
+And, my! how they frolic and scamper and shout
+Till bedtime too speedily comes!
+Oh, days they are golden and days they are fleet
+With little folk living in Good-Children street.
+
+See, here comes an army with guns painted red,
+And swords, caps, and plumes of all sorts;
+The captain rides gaily and proudly ahead
+On a stick-horse that prances and snorts!
+Oh, legions of soldiers you're certain to meet -
+Nice make-believe soldiers - in Good-Children street.
+
+And yonder Odette wheels her dolly about -
+Poor dolly! I'm sure she is ill,
+For one of her blue china eyes has dropped out
+And her voice is asthmatic'ly shrill.
+Then, too, I observe she is minus her feet,
+Which causes much sorrow in Good-Children street.
+
+'T is so the dear children go romping about
+With dollies and banners and drums,
+And I venture to say they are sadly put out
+When an end to their jubilee comes:
+Oh, days they are golden and days they are fleet
+With little folk living in Good-Children street!
+
+But when falleth night over river and town,
+Those little folk vanish from sight,
+And an angel all white from the sky cometh down
+And guardeth the babes through the night,
+And singeth her lullabies tender and sweet
+To the dear little people in Good-Children Street.
+
+Though elsewhere the world be o'erburdened with care,
+Though poverty fall to my lot,
+Though toil and vexation be always my share,
+What care I - they trouble me not!
+This thought maketh life ever joyous and Sweet:
+There's a dear little home in Good-Children street.
+
+
+
+THE DELECTABLE BALLAD OF THE WALLER LOT
+
+Up yonder in Buena Park
+There is a famous spot,
+In legend and in history
+Yclept the Waller Lot.
+
+There children play in daytime
+And lovers stroll by dark,
+For 't is the goodliest trysting-place
+In all Buena Park.
+
+Once on a time that beauteous maid,
+Sweet little Sissy Knott,
+Took out her pretty doll to walk
+Within the Waller Lot.
+
+While thus she fared, from Ravenswood
+Came Injuns o'er the plain,
+And seized upon that beauteous maid
+And rent her doll in twain.
+
+Oh, 't was a piteous thing to hear
+Her lamentations wild;
+She tore her golden curls and cried:
+"My child! My child! My child!"
+
+Alas, what cared those Injun chiefs
+How bitterly wailed she?
+They never had been mothers,
+And they could not hope to be!
+
+"Have done with tears," they rudely quoth,
+And then they bound her hands;
+For they proposed to take her off
+To distant border lands.
+
+But, joy! from Mr. Eddy's barn
+Doth Willie Clow behold
+The sight that makes his hair rise up
+And all his blood run cold.
+
+He put his fingers in his mouth
+And whistled long and clear,
+And presently a goodly horde
+Of cow-boys did appear.
+
+Cried Willie Clow: "My comrades bold,
+Haste to the Waller Lot,
+And rescue from that Injun band
+Our charming Sissy Knott!"
+
+"Spare neither Injun buck nor squaw,
+But smite them hide and hair!
+Spare neither sex nor age nor size,
+And no condition spare!"
+
+Then sped that cow-boy band away,
+Full of revengeful wrath,
+And Kendall Evans rode ahead
+Upon a hickory lath.
+
+And next came gallant Dady Field
+And Willie's brother Kent,
+The Eddy boys and Robbie James,
+On murderous purpose bent.
+
+For they were much beholden to
+That maid - in sooth, the lot
+Were very, very much in love
+With charming Sissy Knott.
+
+What wonder? She was beauty's queen,
+And good beyond compare;
+Moreover, it was known she was
+Her wealthy father's heir!
+
+Now when the Injuns saw that band
+They trembled with affright,
+And yet they thought the cheapest thing
+To do was stay and fight.
+
+So sturdily they stood their ground,
+Nor would their prisoner yield,
+Despite the wrath of Willie Clow
+And gallant Dady Field.
+
+Oh, never fiercer battle raged
+Upon the Waller Lot,
+And never blood more freely flowed
+Than flowed for Sissy Knott!
+
+An Injun chief of monstrous size
+Got Kendall Evans down,
+And Robbie James was soon o'erthrown
+By one of great renown.
+
+And Dady Field was sorely done,
+And Willie Clow was hurt,
+And all that gallant cow-boy band
+Lay wallowing in the dirt.
+
+But still they strove with might and main
+Till all the Waller Lot
+Was strewn with hair and gouts of gore -
+All, all for Sissy Knott!
+
+Then cried the maiden in despair:
+"Alas, 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 my little Googly-Goo!
+
+
+
+THE BENCH-LEGGED FYCE
+
+Speakin' of dorgs, my bench-legged fyce
+Hed most o' the virtues, an' nary a vice.
+Some folks called him Sooner, a name that arose
+From his predisposition to chronic repose;
+But, rouse his ambition, he couldn't be beat -
+Yer bet yer he got thar on all his four feet!
+
+Mos' dorgs hez some forte - like huntin' an' such,
+But the sports o' the field didn't bother him much;
+Wuz just a plain dorg, an' contented to be
+On peaceable terms with the neighbors an' me;
+Used to fiddle an' squirm, and grunt "Oh, how nice!"
+When I tickled the back of that bench-legged fyce!
+
+He wuz long in the bar'l, like a fyce oughter be;
+His color wuz yaller as ever you see;
+His tail, curlin' upward, wuz long, loose, an' slim -
+When he didn't wag it, why, the tail it wagged him!
+His legs wuz so crooked, my bench-legged pup
+Wuz as tall settin' down as he wuz standin' up!
+
+He'd lie by the stove of a night an' regret
+The various vittles an' things he had et;
+When a stranger, most likely a tramp, come along,
+He'd lift up his voice in significant song -
+You wondered, by gum! how there ever wuz space
+In that bosom o' his'n to hold so much bass!
+
+Of daytimes he'd sneak to the road an' lie down,
+An' tackle the country dorgs comin' to town;
+By common consent he wuz boss in St. Joe,
+For what he took hold of he never let go!
+An' a dude that come courtin' our girl left a slice
+Of his white flannel suit with our bench-legged fyce!
+
+He wuz good to us kids - when we pulled at his fur
+Or twisted his tail he would never demur;
+He seemed to enjoy all our play an' our chaff,
+For his tongue 'u'd hang out an' he'd laff an' he'd laff;
+An' once, when the Hobart boy fell through the ice,
+He wuz drug clean ashore by that bench-legged fyce!
+
+We all hev our choice, an' you, like the rest,
+Allow that the dorg which you've got is the best;
+I wouldn't give much for the boy 'at grows up
+With no friendship subsistin' 'tween him an' a pup!
+When a fellow gits old - I tell you it's nice
+To think of his youth and his bench-legged fyce!
+
+To think of the springtime 'way back in St. Joe -
+Of the peach-trees abloom an' the daisies ablow;
+To think of the play in the medder an' grove,
+When little legs wrassled an' little han's strove;
+To think of the loyalty, valor, an' truth
+Of the friendships that hallow the season of youth!
+
+
+
+LITTLE MISS BRAG
+
+Little Miss Brag has much to say
+To the rich little lady from over the way
+And the rich little lady puts out a lip
+As she looks at her own white, dainty slip,
+And wishes that she could wear a gown
+As pretty as gingham of faded brown!
+For little Miss Brag she lays much stress
+On the privileges of a gingham dress -
+    "Aha,
+     Oho!"
+
+The rich little lady from over the way
+Has beautiful dolls in vast array;
+Yet she envies the raggedy home-made doll
+She hears our little Miss Brag extol.
+For the raggedy doll can fear no hurt
+From wet, or heat, or tumble, or dirt!
+Her nose is inked, and her mouth is, too,
+And one eye's black and the other's blue -
+    "Aha,
+     Oho!"
+
+The rich little lady goes out to ride
+With footmen standing up outside,
+Yet wishes that, sometimes, after dark
+Her father would trundle her in the park; -
+That, sometimes, her mother would sing the things
+Little Miss Brag says her mother sings
+When through the attic window streams
+The moonlight full of golden dreams -
+    "Aha,
+     Oho!"
+
+Yes, little Miss Brag has much to say
+To the rich little lady from over the way;
+And yet who knows but from her heart
+Often the bitter sighs upstart -
+Uprise to lose their burn and sting
+In the grace of the tongue that loves to sing
+Praise of the treasures all its own!
+So I've come to love that treble tone -
+    "Aha,
+     Oho!"
+
+
+
+THE HUMMING TOP
+
+The top it hummeth a sweet, sweet song
+To my dear little boy at play -
+Merrily singeth all day long,
+As it spinneth and spinneth away.
+And my dear little boy
+He laugheth with joy
+When he heareth the monotone
+Of that busy thing
+That loveth to sing
+The song that is all its own.
+
+Hold fast the string and wind it tight,
+That the song be loud and clear;
+Now hurl the top with all your might
+Upon the banquette here;
+And straight from the string
+The joyous thing
+Boundeth and spinneth along,
+And it whirrs and it chirrs
+And it birrs and it purrs
+Ever its pretty song.
+
+Will ever my dear little boy grow old,
+As some have grown before?
+Will ever his heart feel faint and cold,
+When he heareth the songs of yore?
+Will ever this toy
+Of my dear little boy,
+When the years have worn away,
+Sing sad and low
+Of the long ago,
+As it singeth to me to-day?
+
+
+
+LADY BUTTON-EYES
+
+When the busy day is done,
+And my weary little one
+Rocketh gently to and fro;
+When the night winds softly blow,
+And the crickets in the glen
+Chirp and chirp and chirp again;
+When upon the haunted green
+Fairies dance around their queen -
+Then from yonder misty skies
+Cometh Lady Button-Eyes.
+
+Through the murk and mist and gloam
+To our quiet, cozy home,
+Where to singing, sweet and low,
+Rocks a cradle to and fro;
+Where the clock's dull monotone
+Telleth of the day that's done;
+Where the moonbeams hover o'er
+Playthings sleeping on the floor -
+Where my weary wee one lies
+Cometh Lady Button-Eyes.
+
+Cometh like a fleeting ghost
+From some distant eerie coast;
+Never footfall can you hear
+As that spirit fareth near -
+Never whisper, never word
+From that shadow-queen is heard.
+In ethereal raiment dight,
+From the realm of fay and sprite
+In the depth of yonder skies
+Cometh Lady Button-Eyes.
+
+Layeth she her hands upon
+My dear weary little one,
+And those white hands overspread
+Like	a veil the curly head,
+Seem to fondle and caress
+Every little silken tress;
+Then she smooths the eyelids down
+Over those two eyes of brown -
+In such soothing, tender wise
+Cometh Lady Button-Eyes.
+
+Dearest, feel upon your brow
+That caressing magic now;
+For the crickets in the glen
+Chirp and chirp and chirp again,
+While upon the haunted green
+Fairies dance around their queen,
+And the moonbeams hover o'er
+Playthings sleeping on the floor -
+Hush, my sweet! from yonder skies
+Cometh Lady Button-Eyes!
+
+
+
+THE RIDE TO BUMPVILLE
+
+Play that my knee was a calico mare
+Saddled and bridled for Bumpville;
+Leap to the back of this steed, if you dare,
+And gallop away to Bumpville!
+I hope you'll be sure to sit fast in your seat,
+For this calico mare is prodigiously fleet,
+And many adventures you're likely to meet
+As you journey along to Bumpville.
+
+This calico mare both gallops and trots
+While whisking you off to Bumpville;
+She paces, she shies, and she stumbles, in spots,
+In the tortuous road to Bumpville;
+And sometimes this strangely mercurial steed
+Will suddenly stop and refuse to proceed,
+Which, all will admit, is vexatious indeed,
+When one is en route to Bumpville!
+
+She's scared of the cars when the engine goes "Toot!"
+Down by the crossing at Bumpville;
+You'd better look out for that treacherous brute
+Bearing you off to Bumpville!
+With a snort she rears up on her hindermost heels,
+And executes jigs and Virginia reels -
+Words fail to explain how embarrassed one feels
+Dancing so wildly to Bumpville!
+
+It's bumpytybump and it's jiggytyjog,
+Journeying on to Bumpville
+It's over the hilltop and down through the bog
+You ride on your way to Bumpville;
+It's rattletybang over boulder and stump,
+There are rivers to ford, there are fences to jump,
+And the corduroy road it goes bumpytybump,
+Mile after mile to bumpville!
+
+Perhaps you'll observe it's no easy thing
+Making the journey to Bumpville,
+So I think, on the whole, it were prudent to bring
+An end to this ride to Bumpville;
+For, though she has uttered no protest or plaint,
+The calico mare must be blowing and faint -
+What's more to the point, I'm blowed if I ain't!
+So play we have got to Bumpville!
+
+
+
+THE BROOK
+
+I looked in the brook and saw a face -
+Heigh-ho, but a child was I!
+There were rushes and willows in that place,
+And they clutched at the brook as the brook ran by;
+And the brook it ran its own sweet way,
+As a child doth run in heedless play,
+And as it ran I heard it say:
+"Hasten with me
+To the roistering sea
+That is wroth with the flame of the morning sky!"
+
+I look in the brook and see a face -
+Heigh-ho, but the years go by!
+The rushes are dead in the old-time place,
+And the willows I knew when a child was I.
+And the brook it seemeth to me to say,
+As ever it stealeth on its way -
+Solemnly now, and not in play:
+"Oh, come with me
+To the slumbrous sea
+That is gray with the peace of the evening sky!"
+
+Heigh-ho, but the years go by -
+I would to God that a child were I!
+
+
+
+PICNIC-TIME
+
+It's June ag'in, an' in my soul I feel the fillin' joy
+That's sure to come this time o' year to every little boy;
+For, every June, the Sunday-schools at picnics may be seen,
+Where "fields beyont the swellin' floods stand dressed in livin' green";
+Where little girls are skeered to death with spiders, bugs, and ants,
+An' little boys get grass-stains on their go-to meetin' pants.
+It's June ag'in, an' with it all what happiness is mine -
+There's goin' to be a picnic, an' I'm goin' to jine!
+
+One year I jined the Baptists, an' goodness! how it rained!
+(But grampa says that that's the way "baptizo" is explained.)
+And once I jined the 'Piscopils an' had a heap o' fun -
+But the boss of all the picnics was the Presbyteriun!
+They had so many puddin's, sallids, sandwidges, an' pies,
+That a feller wisht his stummick was as hungry as his eyes!
+Oh, yes, the eatin' Presbyteriuns give yer is so fine
+That when they have a picnic, you bet I'm goin' to jine!
+
+But at this time the Methodists have special claims on me,
+For they're goin' to give a picnic on the 21st, D. V.;
+Why should a liberal universalist like me object
+To share the joys of fellowship with every friendly sect?
+However het'rodox their articles of faith elsewise may be,
+Their doctrine of fried chick'n is a savin' grace to me!
+So on the 21st of June, the weather bein' fine,
+They're goin' to give a picnic, and I'm goin' to jine!
+
+
+
+SHUFFLE-SHOON AND AMBER-LOCKS
+
+Shuffle-shoon and Amber-Locks
+Sit together, building blocks;
+Shuffle-Shoon is old and gray,
+Amber-Locks a little child,
+But together at their play
+Age and Youth are reconciled,
+And with sympathetic glee
+Build their castles fair to see.
+
+"When I grow to be a man"
+(So the wee one's prattle ran),
+"I shall build a castle so -
+With a gateway broad and grand;
+Here a pretty vine shall grow,
+There a soldier guard shall stand;
+And the tower shall be so high,
+Folks will wonder, by and by!"
+
+Shuffle-Shoon quoth: "Yes, I know;
+Thus I builded long ago!
+Here a gate and there a wall,
+Here a window, there a door;
+Here a steeple wondrous tall
+Riseth ever more and more!
+But the years have leveled low
+What I builded long ago!"
+
+So they gossip at their play,
+Heedless of the fleeting day;
+One speaks of the Long Ago
+Where his dead hopes buried lie;
+One with chubby cheeks aglow
+Prattleth of the By and By;
+Side by side, they build their blocks -
+Shuffle-Shoon and Amber-Locks.
+
+
+
+THE SHUT-EYE TRAIN
+
+Come, my little one, with me!
+There are wondrous sights to see
+As the evening shadows fall;
+In your pretty cap and gown,
+Don't detain
+The Shut-Eye train -
+"Ting-a-ling!" the bell it goeth,
+"Toot-toot!" the whistle bloweth,
+And we hear the warning call:
+"All aboard for Shut-Eye Town!"
+
+Over hill and over plain
+Soon will speed the Shut-Eye train!
+Through the blue where bloom the stars
+And the Mother Moon looks down
+We'll away
+To land of Fay -
+Oh, the sights that we shall see there!
+Come, my little one, with me there -
+'T is a goodly train of cars -
+All aboard for Shut-Eye Town!
+
+Swifter than a wild bird's flight,
+Through the realms of fleecy light
+We shall speed and speed away!
+Let the Night in envy frown -
+What care we
+How wroth she be!
+To the Balow-land above us,
+To the Balow-folk who love us,
+Let us hasten while we may -
+All aboard for Shut-Eye Town!
+
+Shut-Eye Town is passing fair -
+Golden dreams await us there;
+We shall dream those dreams, my dear,
+Till the Mother Moon goes down -
+See unfold
+Delights untold!
+And in those mysterious places
+We shall see beloved faces
+And beloved voices hear
+In the grace of Shut-Eye Town.
+
+Heavy are your eyes, my sweet,
+Weary are your little feet -
+Nestle closer up to me
+In your pretty cap and gown;
+Don't detain
+The Shut-Eye train!
+"Ting-a-ling!" the bell it goeth,
+"Toot-toot!" the whistle bloweth
+Oh, the sights that we shall see!
+All aboard for Shut-Eye Town!
+
+
+
+LITTLE-OH DEAR
+
+See, what a wonderful garden is here,
+Planted and trimmed for my Little-Oh-Dear!
+Posies so gaudy and grass of such brown -
+Search ye the country and hunt ye the town
+And never ye'll meet with a garden so queer
+As this one I've made for my Little-Oh-Dear!
+
+Marigolds white and buttercups blue,
+Lilies all dabbled with honey and dew,
+The cactus that trails over trellis and wall,
+Roses and pansies and violets - all
+Make proper obeisance and reverent cheer
+When into her garden steps Little-Oh-Dear.
+
+And up at the top of that lavender-tree
+A silver-bird singeth as only can she;
+For, ever and only, she singeth the song
+"I love you - I love you!" the happy day long; -
+Then the echo - the echo that smiteth me here!
+"I love you, I love you," my Little-Oh-Dear!
+
+The garden may wither, the silver-bird fly -
+But what careth my little precious, or I?
+From her pathway of flowers that in spring time upstart
+She walketh the tenderer way in my heart
+And, oh, it is always the summer-time here
+With that song of "I love you," my Little-Oh-Dear!
+
+
+
+THE FLY-AWAY HORSE
+
+Oh, a wonderful horse is the Fly-Away Horse -
+Perhaps you have seen him before;
+Perhaps, while you slept, his shadow has swept
+Through the moonlight that floats on the floor.
+For it's only at night, when the stars twinkle bright,
+That the Fly-Away Horse, with a neigh
+And a pull at his rein and a toss of his mane,
+Is up on his heels and away!
+The Moon in the sky,
+As he gallopeth by,
+Cries: "Oh! what a marvelous sight!"
+And the Stars in dismay
+Hide their faces away
+In the lap of old Grandmother Night.
+
+It is yonder, out yonder, the Fly-Away Horse
+Speedeth ever and ever away -
+Over meadows and lanes, over mountains and plains,
+Over streamlets that sing at their play;
+And over the sea like a ghost sweepeth he,
+While the ships they go sailing below,
+And he speedeth so fast that the men at the mast
+Adjudge him some portent of woe.
+"What ho there!" they cry,
+As he flourishes by
+With a whisk of his beautiful tail;
+And the fish in the sea
+Are as scared as can be,
+From the nautilus up to the whale!
+
+And the Fly-Away Horse seeks those faraway lands
+You little folk dream of at night -
+Where candy-trees grow, and honey-brooks flow,
+And corn-fields with popcorn are white;
+And the beasts in the wood are ever so good
+To children who visit them there -
+What glory astride of a lion to ride,
+Or to wrestle around with a bear!
+The monkeys, they say:
+"Come on, let us play,"
+And they frisk in the cocoanut-trees:
+While the parrots, that cling
+To the peanut-vines, sing
+Or converse with comparative ease!
+
+Off! scamper to bed - you shall ride him tonight!
+For, as soon as you've fallen asleep,
+With a jubilant neigh he shall bear you away
+Over forest and hillside and deep!
+But tell us, my dear, all you see and you hear
+In those beautiful lands over there,
+Where the Fly-Away Horse wings his faraway course
+With the wee one consigned to his care.
+Then grandma will cry
+In amazement: "Oh, my!"
+And she'll think it could never be so;
+And only we two
+Shall know it is true -
+You and I, little precious! shall know!
+
+
+
+SWING HIGH AND SWING LOW
+
+Swing high and swing low
+While the breezes they blow -
+It's off for a sailor thy father would go;
+And it's here in the harbor, in sight of the sea,
+He hath left his wee babe with my song and with me:
+"Swing high and swing low
+While the breezes they blow!"
+
+Swing high and swing low
+While the breezes they blow -
+It's oh for the waiting as weary days go!
+And it's oh for the heartache that smiteth me when
+I sing my song over and over again:
+"Swing high and swing low
+While the breezes they blow!"
+
+"Swing high and swing low " -
+The sea singeth so,
+And it waileth anon in its ebb and its flow;
+And a sleeper sleeps on to that song of the sea
+Nor recketh he ever of mine or of me!
+"Swing high and swing low
+While the breezes they blow -
+'T was off for a sailor thy father would go!"
+
+
+
+WHEN I WAS A BOY
+
+Up in the attic where I slept
+When I was a boy, a little boy,
+In through the lattice the moonlight crept,
+Bringing a tide of dreams that swept
+Over the low, red trundle-bed,
+Bathing the tangled curly head,
+While moonbeams played at hide-and-seek
+With the dimples on the sun-browned cheek -
+When I was a boy, a little boy!
+
+And, oh! the dreams - the dreams I dreamed!
+When I was a boy, a little boy!
+For the grace that through the lattice streamed
+Over my folded eyelids seemed
+To have the gift of prophecy,
+And to bring me glimpses of times to be
+When manhood's clarion seemed to call -
+Ah! that was the sweetest dream of all,
+When I was a boy, a little boy!
+
+I'd like to sleep where I used to sleep
+When I was a boy, a little boy!
+For in at the lattice the moon would peep,
+Bringing her tide of dreams to sweep
+The crosses and griefs of the years away
+From the heart that is weary and faint to-day;
+And those dreams should give me back again
+A peace I have never known since then -
+When I was a boy, a little boy!
+
+
+
+AT PLAY
+
+Play that you are mother dear,
+And play that papa is your beau;
+Play that we sit in the corner here,
+Just as we used to, long ago.
+Playing so, we lovers two
+Are just as happy as we can be,
+And I'll say "I love you" to you,
+And you say "I love you" to me!
+"I love you" we both shall say,
+All in earnest and all in play.
+
+Or, play that you are that other one
+That some time came, and went away;
+And play that the light of years agone
+Stole into my heart again to-day!
+Playing that you are the one I knew
+In the days that never again may be,
+I'll say "I love you" to you,
+And you say "I love you" to me!
+I love you!" my heart shall say
+To the ghost of the past come back to-day!
+
+Or, play that you sought this nestling-place
+For your own sweet self, with that dual guise
+Of your pretty mother in your face
+And the look of that other in your eyes!
+So the dear old loves shall live anew
+As I hold my darling on my knee,
+And I'll say "I love you" to you,
+And you say "I love you" to me!
+Oh, many a strange, true thing we say
+And do when we pretend to play!
+
+
+
+A VALENTINE
+
+Go, Cupid, and my sweetheart tell
+I love her well.
+Yes, though she tramples on my heart
+And rends that bleeding thing apart;
+And though she rolls a scornful eye
+On doting me when I go by;
+And though she scouts at everything
+As tribute unto her I bring -
+Apple, banana, caramel -
+Haste, Cupid, to my love and tell,
+In spite of all, I love her well!
+
+And further say I have a sled
+Cushioned in blue and painted red!
+The groceryman has promised I
+Can "hitch" whenever he goes by -
+Go, tell her that, and, furthermore,
+Apprise my sweetheart that a score
+Of other little girls implore
+The boon of riding on that sled
+Painted and hitched, as aforesaid; -
+And tell her, Cupid, only she
+Shall ride upon that sled with me!
+Tell her this all, and further tell
+I love her well.
+
+
+
+LITTLE ALL-ALONEY
+
+Little All-Aloney's feet
+Pitter-patter in the hall,
+And his mother runs to meet
+And to kiss her toddling sweet,
+Ere perchance he fall.
+He is, oh, so weak and small!
+Yet what danger shall he fear
+When his mother hovereth near,
+And he hears her cheering call:
+"All-Aloney"?
+
+Little All-Aloney's face
+It is all aglow with glee,
+As around that romping-place
+At a terrifying pace
+Lungeth, plungeth he!
+And that hero seems to be
+All unconscious of our cheers -
+Only one dear voice he hears
+Calling reassuringly:
+"All-Aloney!"
+
+Though his legs bend with their load,
+Though his feet they seem so small
+That you cannot help forebode
+Some disastrous episode
+In that noisy hall,
+Neither threatening bump nor fall
+Little All-Aloney fears,
+But with sweet bravado steers
+Whither comes that cheery call:
+"All-Aloney!"
+
+Ah, that in the years to come,
+When he shares of Sorrow's store, -
+When his feet are chill and numb,
+When his cross is burdensome,
+And his heart is sore:
+Would that he could hear once more
+The gentle voice he used to hear -
+Divine with mother love and cheer -
+Calling from yonder spirit shore:
+"All, all alone!"
+
+
+
+SEEIN' THINGS
+
+I ain't afeard uv snakes, or toads, or bugs, or worms, or mice,
+An' things 'at girls are skeered uv I think are awful nice!
+I'm pretty brave, I guess; an' yet I hate to go to bed,
+For, when I'm tucked up warm an' snug an' when my prayers are said,
+Mother tells me "Happy dreams!" and takes away the light,
+An' leaves me lyin' all alone an' seein' things at night!
+
+Sometimes they're in the corner, sometimes they're by the door,
+Sometimes they're all a-standin' in the middle uv the floor;
+Sometimes they are a-sittin' down, sometimes they're walkin' round
+So softly an' so creepylike they never make a sound!
+Sometimes they are as black as ink, an' other times they're white -
+But the color ain't no difference when you see things at night!
+
+Once, when I licked a feller 'at had just moved on our street,
+An' father sent me up to bed without a bite to eat,
+I woke up in the dark an' saw things standin' in a row,
+A-lookin' at me cross-eyed an' p'intin' at me - so!
+Oh, my! I wuz so skeered that time I never slep' a mite -
+It's almost alluz when I'm bad I see things at night!
+
+Lucky thing I ain't a girl, or I'd be skeered to death!
+Bein' I'm a boy, I duck my head an' hold my breath;
+An' I am, oh! so sorry I'm a naughty boy, an' then
+I promise to be better an' I say my prayers again!
+Gran'ma tells me that's the only way to make it right
+When a feller has been wicked an' sees things at night!
+An' so, when other naughty boys would coax me into sin,
+I try to skwush the Tempter's voice 'at urges me within;
+An' when they's pie for supper, or cakes 'at 's big an' nice,
+I want to - but I do not pass my plate f'r them things twice!
+No, ruther let Starvation wipe me slowly out o' sight
+Than I should keep a-livin' on an' seein' things at night!
+
+
+
+THE CUNNIN' LITTLE THING
+
+When baby wakes of mornings,
+Then it's wake, ye people all!
+For another day
+Of song and play
+Has come at our darling's call!
+And, till she gets her dinner,
+She makes the welkin ring,
+And she won't keep still till she's had her fill -
+The cunnin' little thing!
+
+When baby goes a-walking,
+Oh, how her paddies fly!
+For that's the way
+The babies say
+To other folk "by-by";
+The trees bend down to kiss her,
+And the birds in rapture sing,
+As there she stands and waves her hands -
+The cunnin' little thing!
+
+When baby goes a-rocking
+In her bed at close of day,
+At hide-and-seek
+On her dainty cheek
+The dreams and the dimples play;
+Then it's sleep in the tender kisses
+The guardian angels bring
+From the Far Above to my sweetest love -
+You cunnin' little thing!
+
+
+
+THE DOLL'S WOOING
+
+The little French doll was a dear little doll
+Tricked out in the sweetest of dresses;
+Her eyes were of hue
+A most delicate blue
+And dark as the night were her tresses;
+Her dear little mouth was fluted and red,
+And this little French doll was so very well bred
+That whenever accosted her little mouth said
+"Mamma! mamma!"
+
+The stockinet doll, with one arm and one leg,
+Had once been a handsome young fellow;
+But now he appeared
+Rather frowzy and bleared
+In his torn regimentals of yellow;
+Yet his heart gave a curious thump as he lay
+In the little toy cart near the window one day
+And heard the sweet voice of that French dolly say:
+"Mamma! mamma!"
+
+He listened so long and he listened so hard
+That anon he grew ever so tender,
+For it's everywhere known
+That the feminine tone
+Gets away with all masculine gender!
+He up and he wooed her with soldierly zest
+But all she'd reply to the love he professed
+Were these plaintive words (which perhaps you have guessed):
+"Mamma! mamma!"
+
+Her mother - a sweet little lady of five -
+Vouchsafed her parental protection,
+And although stockinet
+Wasn't blue-blooded, yet
+She really could make no objection!
+So soldier and dolly were wedded one day,
+And a moment ago, as I journeyed that way,
+I'm sure that I heard a wee baby voice say:
+"Mamma! mamma!"
+
+
+
+INSCRIPTION FOR MY LITTLE SON'S SILVER PLATE
+
+When thou dost eat from off this plate,
+I charge thee be thou temperate;
+Unto thine elders at the board
+Do thou sweet reverence accord;
+And, though to dignity inclined,
+Unto the serving-folk be kind;
+Be ever mindful of the poor,
+Nor turn them hungry from the door;
+And unto God, for health and food
+And all that in thy life is good,
+Give thou thy heart in gratitude.
+
+
+
+FISHERMAN JIM'S KIDS
+
+Fisherman Jim lived on the hill
+With his bonnie wife an' his little boys;
+'T wuz "Blow, ye winds, as blow ye will -
+Naught we reck of your cold and noise!"
+For happy and warm were he an' his,
+And he dandled his kids upon his knee
+To the song of the sea.
+
+Fisherman Jim would sail all day,
+But, when come night, upon the sands
+His little kids ran from their play,
+Callin' to him an' wavin' their hands;
+Though the wind was fresh and the sea was high,
+He'd hear'em - you bet - above the roar
+Of the waves on the shore!
+
+Once Fisherman Jim sailed into the bay
+As the sun went down in a cloudy sky,
+And never a kid saw he at play,
+And he listened in vain for the welcoming cry.
+In his little house he learned it all,
+And he clinched his hands and he bowed his head -
+"The fever!" they said.
+
+'T wuz a pitiful time for Fisherman Jim,
+With them darlin's a-dyin' afore his eyes,
+A-stretchin' their wee hands out to him
+An' a-breakin' his heart with the old-time cries
+He had heerd so often upon the sands;
+For they thought they wuz helpin' his boat ashore -
+Till they spoke no more.
+
+But Fisherman Jim lived on and on,
+Castin' his nets an' sailin' the sea;
+As a man will live when his heart is gone,
+Fisherman Jim lived hopelessly,
+Till once in those years they come an' said:
+"Old Fisherman Jim is powerful sick -
+Go to him, quick!"
+
+Then Fisherman Jim says he to me:
+"It's a long, long cruise-you understand -
+But over beyont the ragin' sea
+I kin see my boys on the shinin' sand
+Waitin' to help this ol' hulk ashore,
+Just as they used to - ah, mate, you know! -
+In the long ago."
+
+No, sir! he wuzn't afeard to die;
+For all night long he seemed to see
+His little boys of the days gone by,
+An' to hear sweet voices forgot by me!
+An' just as the mornin' sun come up -
+"They're holdin' me by the hands!" he cried,
+An' so he died.
+
+
+
+"FIDDLE-DEE-DEE"
+
+There once was a bird that lived up in a tree,
+And all he could whistle was "Fiddle-dee-dee" -
+A very provoking, unmusical song
+For one to be whistling the summer day long!
+Yet always contented and busy was he
+With that vocal recurrence of "Fiddle-dee-dee."
+
+Hard by lived a brave little soldier of four,
+That weird iteration repented him sore;
+"I prithee, Dear-Mother-Mine! fetch me my gun,
+For, by our St. Didy! the deed must be done
+That shall presently rid all creation and me
+Of that ominous bird and his 'Fiddle-dee-dee'!"
+
+Then out came Dear-Mother-Mine, bringing her son
+His awfully truculent little red gun;
+The stock was of pine and the barrel of tin,
+The "bang" it came out where the bullet went in -
+The right kind of weapon I think you'll agree
+For slaying all fowl that go "Fiddle-dee-dee"!
+
+The brave little soldier quoth never a word,
+But he up and he drew a straight bead on that bird;
+And, while that vain creature provokingly sang,
+The gun it went off with a terrible bang!
+Then loud laughed the youth - "By my Bottle," cried he,
+I've put a quietus on 'Fiddle-dee-dee'!"
+
+Out came then Dear-Mother-Mine, saying: "My son,
+Right well have you wrought with your little red gun!
+Hereafter no evil at all need I fear,
+With such a brave soldier as You-My-Love here!"
+She kissed the dear boy.
+(The bird in the tree
+Continued to whistle his "Fiddle-dee-dee")
+
+
+
+OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY
+
+Over the hills and far away,
+A little boy steals from his morning play
+And under the blossoming apple-tree
+He lies and he dreams of the things to be:
+Of battles fought and of victories won,
+Of wrongs o'erthrown and of great deeds done -
+Of the valor that he shall prove some day,
+Over the hills and far away -
+Over the hills, and far away!
+
+Over the hills and far away
+It's, oh, for the toil the livelong day!
+But it mattereth not to the soul aflame
+With a love for riches and power and fame!
+On, 0 man! while the sun is high -
+On to the certain joys that lie
+Yonder where blazeth the noon of day,
+Over the hills and far away -
+Over the hills, and far away!
+
+Over the hills and far away,
+An old man lingers at close of day;
+Now that his journey is almost done,
+His battles fought and his victories won -
+The old-time honesty and truth,
+The trustfulness and the friends of youth,
+Home and mother-where are they?
+Over the hills and far away -
+Over the years, and far away!
+
+
+
+
+
+End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of
+Love-Songs of Childhood
+
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