PA'S WAYS

My pa, he's got the funniest ways
Of any man whatever I saw!
He's different than ma.
He never thinks same as she does;
But they alus seem to git 'long some way
'Caus ma says fussin' don't pay.

But pa don't b'lieve in women votin';
En he says that ma can't,
En then he says that she shan't!
He says he'd be 'shamed of her;
En says he'd git divorce.
En pa means what he says o' course.

Pa likes to go to church sometimes;
But he don't b'long to any
'Caus there's so awful many,
En nobody knows which one's right.
He says the preachers don't know
Where the folks is goin' to go.

'Caus they's never been there—
He means the place they's preach for,
What they calls the golden shore.
But he says they's doin' lots o' good
En he don't mind givin' 'm money.
En ma says that's what's funny!

But he never minds what she says,
He says woman can't mind her biz!
En I guess he's right, pa is.
But ma b'lieves in woman's rights;
En says a woman kin talk en do,
En that's what she's goin' to.

Pa says if she couldn't talk she'd die!
En he wants her to live long,
So lets her talk on, en on.
But pa can eat more'n she can;
En he likes everything she bakes
Her pies, en pudins, en cakes.

En it keeps her bakin' lots it does.
She says she wishes he wouldn't eat s' much
Of pies, en cakes, en pudins, en such.
He says her cookin's good too,
En it jest gives him a appitite!
Oh, my! pa eats a awful sight.

But he don't care anything 'bout fashion;
He says his is all his own;
En wishes folks 'uld let him 'lone!
He says if folks 'uld pay ther bills
They couldn't wear so much style,
En go to picnics all the while.

He's gittin' older every day, pa is.
En ma says he's funnier, too,
En she don't know what she'll do!
But she never crosses him now;
'Caus she says it never pays
Fer pa—well them's pa's ways.

THE SPIDER AND THE BEE

"Will you walk into my parlor?"
Said a spider to a bee,
"'Tis the prettiest little parlor
That ever you did see."

"No: I thank you, Mr. Spider,"
Said the busy, humming bee,
"There's no honey in your parlor,
So it's not the place for me."

KITTY BELL

I've a story that I'll tell
'Bout a puss named Kitty Bell,
How she played and romped one day,
In a very shocking way.

And what happened to her then
Just because she'd naughty been;
For she wouldn't mind a word,
Not a single one she heard.

So she had to go to bed
With a dreadful aching head!
An' she cried an awful lot,
'Caus her head was burning hot.

But I bound an' tied it up,
Gave her tea in her new cup,
Shook her pillow till 'twas light,
Then slept kitty all the night.

In the morning when she woke
Not a single word she spoke;
But she mewed, "I'm hungry ma,"
Then she licked her little paw,

Washed her face as kittens do,
Till it looked as clean as new;
Soon her mama brought a mouse,
That she caught back of the house.

This she gave to Kitty Bell;
An' poor kitty then got well,
Ate it up an' ran to play
In a very quiet way.

THE BIRDS' PARTY

The birds all held a party
One lovely day in June;
When hearts were light and cheery
And voices were in tune.

They came in pairs from woodlands,
From orchards, and from glen,
The robin, rook, and bluebird,
The swallow, cuckoo, wren,

Sweet bobolink and sparrow,
The crow and pretty jay,
The whip-poor-will and linnet,
All came that happy day.

The meadow lark and blackbird,
The tiny chickadee,
The chippy bird and nightingale,
All came the sights to see.

The catbird and canary,
The topknot and the thrush,
The oriole and turtledove,
All came to join the rush.

And each one brought a basket
With something good to eat;
The robins brought some cherries,
The crows each brought some meat.

The sparrows brought some pudding,
The blackbird brought some corn,
The topknot brought a June plum,
The chickadee a horn.

The bluebird brought a horsefly,
The meadow lark a bug,
The linnet brought a cricket,
The turtledove a slug.

The swallow brought a beetle,
The wren a little ant,
The cuckoo brought a blossom,
From off a mustard plant.

The catbird brought some berries,
The thrush his choice of weeds,
The canary and the rest,
Brought baskets full of seeds.

They gathered in the green wood,
To spread their dinner fine;
Then each one took his sweetheart,
And went with her to dine.

The feast was soon all over,
And each one with his mate
Danced to the horn of chickadee,
Until the hour was late.

Then all the birdies parted,
And each one took to flight;
But every bird was happy
When he bade his love good-night.

JANUARY

With merry chimes and merry times
We'll greet the new year bright;
We'll turn a page that's new in age
And try to keep it white.

We'll look ahead and never dread
The wind in all his whirls,
For winter days and winter plays
Are good for boys and girls.

The wind will blow and drift the snow
O'er lakes and frozen rills;
But what care we? we'll happy be
A-coasting down the hills!

We'll build our forts for winter sports,
And make a man of snow;
And then we'll skate upon the lake,
And let the cold wind blow.

We like the ice and think it nice,
And wish 'twould always tarry;
Of all the year we hold most dear
The month of January.

FEBRUARY

The jolly month of winter time
Has called around once more;
And Mr. Ground-hog will be out
To tell us winter is not o'er.

He'll walk about in pig-ship style,
And, ere the day is done,
He'll freeze his nose and chill his toes
And wish he hadn't come.

Then soon will come old Valentine
With lots of fun to see;
He'll have a face that looks like you,
And one that looks like me.

And next will come a birthday
Of one who once was great—
We'll dance and shout and all turn out
And help to celebrate

The birth of one who never lied,
And thus he lived until he died—
George Washington.

MARCH

The month of March has come again
With blowing, snowing blast;
The winds are piercing in their search,
But come too late to last.

But as the month will onward march,
The winds will warmer grow;
Until 'tis seen the earth is green
And vanished has the snow.

Then comes the sweetest time of all,
When sap flows up the tree;
When sugar-makers busy are
A-making cakes for me.

For I'm the girl who likes the cakes
Made from that sugar sweet—
They're better far than all the gum
That's chewed upon the street.

This is the time I like so well
And wish 'twere always here.
Of all the months that call around
I think March sweetest of the year.

APRIL

The welcome month of April,
With sunshine and with showers,
Sets all the buds to swelling
And brings the early flowers.

And nature now has wakened
From her long and wintry sleep,
And dandelions are peeping
In the grasses at our feet.

The bullfrog loud is calling
From the pond or running stream,
And the nesting birds are cooing
In their early "love's young dream."

The hop-toad in the cellar
Thinks he'll take a look without,
And old shanghi on the fence
Crows and flops his wings about.

And I am just as happy
As the butterfly or bee,
For the showery month of April
Is a welcome month to me.

MAY

The sweetest time of all the year
Is when the month of May draws near.
The air is sweet with rich perfume
That comes from apple-trees in bloom.

The peach-tree sheds its fragrance too,
And sips alike its share of dew.
The lilac blooms and shows its right
To make this month a flowery sight.

The pansy lifts her welcome face
From out her long-leaved hiding-place.
The violet blossoms as of old
And shows her color true as gold.

The brooks they ripple as they go
From brink to brink, in ceaseless flow.
The lark sails high on upward wing—
All Nature's glad to greet the spring.

The wild flowers blossom in the wood,
And all proclaim that God is good.
Of all the months I'd have to stay
It is the flowery month of May.

JUNE

The month of June brings roses sweet,
And daisies blooming at our feet;
When Nature sings her sweetest tune,
'Tis in the balmy month of June.

And glad vacation June will bring,
Then old school bells will cease to ring,
But wedding bells their sweet refrain
Will ring and ring out just the same.

Now lilies white upon the stream,
In early morning will be seen;
And cherries ripe upon the tree
Are tempting to the birds and me.

So robin hops from limb to limb,
And seems to think they're all for him;
And gets his share, and even more,
Before the cherry time is o'er.

This is the month that suits me best,
And I love it better than all the rest;
I'd always sing the same gay tune,
If all the months were just like June.

 

 

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:

Inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation have been retained from the original.