Riley Farm-Rhymes by James Whitcomb Riley
page 24 of 63 (38%)
page 24 of 63 (38%)
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At a dollar-eighty-five!
Reason's plain as I'm a--sayin',-- Jes' the idy, now, o' layin' Out yer money, and a-payin' Fer a wilder-cage and bird, When the medder-larks is wingin' Round you, and the woods is ringin' With the beautifullest singin' That a mortal ever heard! Sahry's sot, tho'.--So I tell her He's a purty little feller, With his wings o' creamy-yeller, And his eyes keen as a cat; And the twitter o' the critter Tears to absolutely glitter! Guess I'll haf to go and git her A high-priceter cage 'n that! WHERE THE CHILDREN USED TO PLAY The old farm-home is Mother's yet and mine, And filled it is with plenty and to spare,-- But we are lonely here in life's decline, |
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