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The Book of Joyous Children by James Whitcomb Riley
page 91 of 92 (98%)
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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