And he brushes them off with a Japanese fan,

Whing!
Whann!

What a marvelous man!

What a very remarkably marvelous man!

And The Man in the Moon, sighed The Raggedy Man,
Gits!
So!

Sullonesome, you know,

Up there by hisse'f sence creation began!—
That when I call on him and then come away,
He grabs me and holds me and begs me to stay,—
Till-Well! if it wasn't fer Jimmy-cum-jim,

Dadd!

Limb!

I'd go pardners with him

Jes' jump my job here and be pardners with him!

James Whitcomb Riley

OUR HIRED GIRL

Our hired girl, she's 'Lizabuth Ann;

An' she can cook best things to eat!

She ist puts dough in our pie-pan,

An' pours in somepin' 'at's good an' sweet;
An' nen she salts it all on top

With cinnamon; an' nen she'll stop
An' stoop an' slide it, ist as slow,
In th' old cook-stove, so's 'twon't slop
An' git all spilled; nen bakes it, so
It's custard-pie, first thing you know!
An' nen she'll say,

"Clear out o' my way!

They's time fer work, an' time fer play!
Take yer dough, an' run, child, run!
Er I cain't git no cookin' done!"

When our hired girl 'tends like she's mad,'
An' says folks got to walk the chalk
When she's around, er wisht they had!
I play out on our porch an' talk
To Th' Raggedy Man 'at mows our lawn;
An' he says, "Whew!" an' nen leans on

His old crook-scythe, and blinks his eyes,
An' sniffs all 'round an' says, "I swawn!
Ef my old nose don't tell me lies,
It 'pears like I smell custard-pies!"
An' nen he'll say,

"Clear out o' my way!

They's time fer work, an' time fer play!
Take yer dough, an' run, child, run!
Er she cain't git no cookin' done!"

Wunst our hired girl, when she

Got the supper, an' we all et,

An' it wuz night, an' Ma an' me

An' Pa went wher' the "Social" met,-
An' nen when we come home, an' see
A light in the kitchen door, an' we

Heerd a maccordeun, Pa says, "Lan'-
O'-Gracious, who can her beau be?"
An' I marched in, an' 'Lizabuth Ann
Wuz parchin' corn fer The Raggedy Man!
Better say,

"Clear out o' the way!

They's time fer work, an' time fer play!
Take the hint, an' run, child, run!
Er we cain't git no courtin' done!"

James Whitcomb Riley

LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIE

Little Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay,

An' wash the cups an' saucers up, an' brush the crumbs

away,

An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth,

an' sweep,

An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board

an'-keep;

An' all us other childern, when the supper-things is done,
We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun
A-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about,
An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you

Ef you
Don't
Watch
Out!

Wunst they wuz a little boy wouldn't say his prayers,-
An' when he went to bed at night, away up-stairs,
His Mammy heerd him holler, an' his Daddy heerd him
bawl,

An' when they turn't the kivvers down, he wuzn't there at all!

An' they seeked him in the rafter-room, an' cubby-hole,

an' press,

An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' ever'wheres, I

guess;

But all they ever found wuz thist his pants an' roundabout:

An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you

Ef you
Don't
Watch

Out!

An' one time a little girl 'ud allus laugh an' grin,
An' make fun of ever' one, an' all her blood-an'-kin;

An' wunst, when they wuz "company," an' ole folks wuz there,

She mocked 'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she didn't care! An' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an' hide, They wuz two great big Black Things a-standin' by her side,

An' they snatched her through the ceilin' 'fore she knowed what she's about!

An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you

Ef you
Don't

Watch

Out!

An' little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue,
An' the lamp-wick sputters, an' the wind goes woo-oo!
An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray,
An' the lightnin'-bugs in dew is all squenched away,-
You better mind yer parunts, an' yer teachurs fond an'
dear,

An' churish them 'at loves you, an' dry the orphant's tear,
An' he'p the pore an' needy ones 'at clusters all about,
Er the Gobble-uns 'll git you

Ef you
Don't

Watch

Out!

James Whitcomb Riley

EXTREMES

A little boy once played so loud

That the Thunder, up in a thunder-cloud,
Said, "Since I can't be heard, why, then,
I'll never, never thunder again!"

And a little girl once kept so still
That she heard a fly on the window-sill
Whisper and say to a lady-bird,

"She's the stilliest child I ever heard!"

James Whitcomb Riley

A BOY'S MOTHER

My mother she's so good to me,
Ef I was good as I could be,
I couldn't be as good-no, sir!-
Can't any boy be good as her.

She loves me when I'm glad er sad;
She loves me when I'm good er bad;
An', what's a funniest thing, she says
She loves me when she punishes.

I don't like her to punish me,-
That don't hurt-but it hurts to see
Her cryin'.-Nen I cry; an' nen
We both cry an' be good again.

She loves me when she cuts an' sews
My little cloak an' Sund'y clothes;
An' when my Pa comes home to tea,
She loves him most as much as me.

She laughs an' tells him all I said,
An' grabs me up an' pats my head;
An' I hug her, an' hug my Pa,

An' love him purt' nigh as much as Ma.

James Whitcomb Riley