But Aunty's all so childish-like on my account, you see,
I'm 'most afeard she'll be took down--an' 'at's what bothers me!--
'Cause ef my good old Aunty ever would git sick an' die,
I don't know what she'd do in heaven--till _I_ come, by an' by:--
Fer she's so ust to all my ways, an' ever'thing, you know,
An' no one there like me, to nuss an' worry over so!--
'Cause all the little childerns there's so straight an' strong an' fine,
They's nary angel 'bout the place with "Curv'ture of the Spine!"

[Illustration: The Happy Little Cripple--Tailpiece]




THE RIDER OF THE KNEE

Knightly Rider of the Knee
Of Proud-prancing Unclery!
Gaily mount, and wave the sign
Of that mastery of thine.

Pat thy steed and turn him free,
Knightly Rider of the Knee!
Sit thy charger as a throne--
Lash him with thy laugh alone:

Sting him only with the spur
Of such wit as may occur,
Knightly Rider of the Knee,
In thy shriek of ecstasy.