The Bay and Padie Book

Furnley Maurice
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Title: The Bay and Padie Book
Kiddie Songs
Author: Furnley Maurice
Illustrator: Vera Hamilton
Cyril Dobbs
Release Date: June 20, 2007 [EBook #21874]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
Produced by Jason Isbell, Irma Spehar, Christine D. and?the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at?
"Do you like ours 'n' father's new book, Bay?"
"Aw, there's not any picture of the Santa-cart written in it!"
Oh!?What a lot of lots of things?For little boys to like!
[Illustration: So Bay doesn't stay in the stars any more]
The Writer wishes to thank the Editor of "The Bulletin," Sydney, for permission to reprint "Nonsense Immortal," and the Editor of "The Triad," Sydney, for a similar courtesy regarding "Kitchen Lullaby" and "Little Boys."
Illustrations by?VERA HAMILTON?and?CYRIL DOBBS
Commonwealth of Australia?Sydney J. Endacott?Melbourne?1917
[Illustration: Signature: Sydney J. Endacott]
First Edition November 1917 Second Edition February 1918
Wholly set up and printed in Australia at the Galleon Press, Norris-street, Surrey Hills, Vic., for Sydney J. Endacott, 14 Cumming-street, Moonee Vale, Vic.
Trains with wheels and clouds of smoke,?Funny crowds of dodging folk,?Trams that run along with sparks,?Sofa games and pillow larks,?Grubs and ponies, worms and tigers,?Sparrows on the tree,?Oh!?What a lot of lots of things?For little boys to see!
Aeroplanes and paper darts,?Woodmen driving broken carts,?Minahs on the chimney tops,?Swallows dodging near the shops,?Barking pups that make the postman?Fall down off his bike;?Oh!?What a lot of lots of things?For little boys to like!
Great big pictures in big books,?Pastry from the pastrycook's,?Circuses and Mentone sand,?Musics of the soldier band,?Chocolates wrapped in silver paper?So they won't get wet;?Oh!?What a lot of lots of things?For little boys to get!
My mother and my father are both having tea to drink;?Inside the pastry shop they saw me last.?They don't know where I've got to, for I've runned from where they think; I heard the soldier band go marching past.
Oh, tiddley--om--ti--pomp they go! Stamp soldier, stamp!?A cab-horse jumped into the air and bumped against a lamp. Ta--rah--ra--rah, the trumpets go telling the boys to come, And always and all the time, bang goes the drum.
Look at their lovely leather legs! The big brass things they blow! I don't care where I walk or who I meet,?I'm following the band away to where the musics grow,?I'm hitting my boots heavy on the street.
For I must find the music man that lets them play so loud, And find the funny place where soldiers go?To fill their trumpets with the noise they blow among the crowd-- It's not a tea and pastry shop I know.
Oh, I must find the music place, and stamp along the track, And try to let no trams run over me;?If I'm a long, long way from home, the band will play me back, That's if I'm good and never spill my tea.
When I grow up a soldier man, I'll buy a pole to wag,?With silver top and tassels red and blue;?I'll tell my little brother to be carrying the flag,?While I call out and tell him how to do.
I don't know where my father is, I've left him in a shop, And if I'm lost there's bound to be a noise;?If fathers want their children, they should make the policeman stop The music of the bands that steal the boys.
Oh, tiddley--om--ti--pomp they go! Stamp, soldier, stamp! A captain with a silver sword is marching them to camp.?Ta--rah--ra--rah, the trumpets go, telling the boys to come, And always and all the time, bang goes the drum.
Raid, raid, go away,?Dote cub back udtil I say,?That wote be for beddy a day.
Ad wot's the good of sudlight, dow??When I ab kept id bed,?Ad rubbed ad poultised for to cure?The cold that's id be head?
I've beed out od the kitched lawd,?With dothig od be feet,?Ad subthig's coffig id be deck?Ad all be head's a heat.
Tell Bay to dot bake such a doise;?Dote rud the cart so hard!?For tissudt fair, just wud of us?To rud arowd the yard.
Ad wed I try to say a tale,?Or sig a little sog,?The coffig cubs idtoo be deck?Ad tickles dredful strog.
Ad wed is father cubbig obe??He'd dot be log he said--?If this is jist a cold it bust?Be awful to be dead!
Oh what a log, log day it is!?Ibe tired of blocks ad books;?I've cowted all the ceilig lides,?I've thought of sheep ad chooks.
I've drawd a bad's face with a bo,?I've drawed a pipe to sboke;?Just wed I thought I was asleep?I wedt ad thought
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