The Book of Joyous Children by James Whitcomb Riley
page 91 of 92 (98%)
page 91 of 92 (98%)
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Wite 'fore our vurry eyes, at that!
Fer one time Pa he scold' my Ma 'Cause he can't find his hat; An' she ist _cried_, she did! An' I Says, "Ef you scold my Ma Ever again an' make her cry, Wy, you sha'n't _be_ my Pa!" An' nen he laugh' an' find his hat Ist wite where Ma she said it's at! * * * * * [Illustration: "THE CHILDISH DREAMS IN HIS WISE OLD HEAD."] * * * * * THE TREASURE OF THE WISE MAN O the night was dark and the night was late, And the robbers came to rob him; And they picked the locks of his palace-gate, The robbers that came to rob him-- They picked the locks of his palace-gate, Seized his jewels and gems of state, His coffers of gold and his priceless plate,-- The robbers that came to rob him. |
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