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- Love-Songs of Childhood - 2/10 -

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!"


'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!


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!


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!


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!

Love-Songs of Childhood - 2/10

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