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Riley Farm-Rhymes by James Whitcomb Riley
page 24 of 63 (38%)
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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