an' reads,
An' when she sees his hand stuck out Ma gives
him what he needs.
She guesses what it is he wants, coz it's no use
to ask:
Pa's got to read his paper an' sometimes that's
quite a task.

One morning we had breakfast an' his features
we could see,
But his face was long an' solemn an' he didn't
speak to me,
An' we couldn't get him laughin' an' we couldn't
make him smile,
An' he said the toast was soggy an' the coffee
simply vile.
Then Ma said: "What's the matter? Why are
you so cross an' glum?"
An' Pa 'most took her head off coz the paper
didn't come.

CAN'T

_Can't_ is the worst word that's written or
spoken;
Doing more harm here than slander and lies;
On it is many a strong spirit broken,
And with it many a good purpose dies.
It springs from the lips of the thoughtless each
morning