And they're sure ter spread the table on the ground beside the spring,
So's the ants and hoppergrasses can just waltz on everything.

Then the girls they'll be a-yippin', 'cause a bug is in the cream;
And a "daddy-long-legs" skippin' round the butter makes 'em scream;
And a fuzzy caterpillar--jest the littlest kind they make--
Sets 'em holl'rin', "Kill her! kill her!" like as if it was a snake.
Then, when dinner-time is over and we boys have et enough,
Why, the big girls they'll pick clover, or make wreaths of leaves and
stuff;
And the big chaps they'll set 'round 'em, lookin' soft as ever wuz,
Talkin' gush and actin' silly, same as that kind always does.

Then, we'll ride home when it's dark'nin' and the leaves are wet with dew,
And the lightnin'-bugs are sparklin' and the moon is shinin', too;
We'll sing "Jingle bells" and "Sailing," "Seein' Nelly home," and more;
And that one that's slow and wailin', "Home ag'in from somethin' shore."
Then a feller's awful sleepy and he kinder wants ter rest,
But the stuff he's et feels creepy and like bricks piled on his chest;
And, perhaps, he dreams his stummick has been stepped on by a mule;
But it ain't: it's jest the picnic of the Baptist Sunday school!

* * * * *

"AUNT 'MANDY"

Our Aunt 'Mandy thinks that boys
Never ought ter make a noise,
Or go swimming or play ball,
Or have any fun at all;