Was that he seen his likeness in our Sary's photygraph.

She's "tonin'," er "develerpin'," er "printin'," ha'f the time;
She's allers buyin' pasteboard ter mount up her latest crime:
Our front room and the settin'-room is like some awful show,
With freaks and framed outrages stuck all 'round 'em in a row:
But soon I'll take them picters, and I'll fetch some of 'em out
And hang 'em 'round the garden when the corn begins ter sprout;
We'll have no crows and blackbirds ner that kind er feathered trash,
'Cause them photygraphs of Sary's, they beat scarecrows all ter smash.

* * * * *

WHEN PAPA'S SICK

When Papa's sick, my goodness sakes!
Such awful, awful times it makes.
He speaks in, oh! such lonesome tones,
And gives such ghas'ly kind of groans,
And rolls his eyes and holds his head,
And makes Ma help him up to bed,
While Sis and Bridget run to heat
Hot-water bags to warm his feet,
And I must get the doctor _quick_,--
We have to _jump_ when Papa's sick.

When Papa's sick Ma has to stand
Right 'side the bed and hold his hand,
While Sis, she has to fan an' fan,
For he says he's "a dyin' man,"