The Book of Joyous Children | Page 3

Dan?Spraddled out just like "The
'Injarubber'-Man!"
Me and Bub and Rusty,
Eck and Dunk and Sid,?'Tumblin' on the sawdust
Like the A-rabs did;?Jamesy on the slack-rope?In a wild retreat,?Grappling back, to start again--?When he chalked his feet!
[Illustration]
Wasn't Eck a wonder,?In his stocking-tights?

[Illustration: "JAMESY ON THE SLACK-ROPE."]

Wasn't Dunk--his leaping lion--?Chief of all delights!?Yes, and wasn't "Little Mack"?Boss of all the Show,--?Both Old Clown and Candy-Butcher--?Long Time Ago!
Sid the Bareback-Rider;?And--oh-me-oh-my!--?Bub, the spruce Ring-master,?Stepping round so spry!--?In his little waist-and-trousers?All made in one,?Was there a prouder youngster?Under the sun!
And NOW--who will tell me,--?Where are they all??Dunk's a sanatorium doctor,?Up at Waterfall;?Sid's a city street-contractor;?Tom has fifty clerks;?And Jamesy he's the "Iron Magnate"?Of "The Hecla Works."
And Bub's old and bald now,?Yet still he hangs on,--?Dan and Eck and "Little Mack,"
Long, long gone!?But wasn't it a good time,
Long Time Ago--?When we all were little tads
And first played "Show"!

A DIVERTED TRAGEDY
[Illustration]
Gracie wuz allus a careless tot;?But Gracie dearly loved her doll,?An' played wiv it on the winder-sill?'Way up-stairs, when she ought to not,?An' her muvver telled her so an' all;?But she won't mind_ what _she say--till,?First thing she know, her dolly fall?Clean spang out o' the winder plumb?Into the street! An' here Grace come?Down-stairs, two at a time, ist wild?An' a-screamin', "Oh, my child! my child!"
[Illustration]
Jule wuz a-bringin' their basket o' clo'es?Ist then into their hall down there,--?An' she ist stop' when Gracie bawl,?An' Jule she say "She ist declare?She's ist in time!" An' what you s'pose?
She sets her basket down in the hall,?An' wite on top o' the snowy clo'es?Wuz Gracie's dolly a-layin' there?An' ist ain't bu'st ner hurt a-tall!
[Illustration]
Nen Gracie smiled--ist sobbed an' smiled--?An' cried, "My child! my precious child!"

THE RAMBO-TREE
When Autumn shakes the rambo-tree--?It's a long, sweet way across the orchard!--?The bird sings low as the bumble-bee--?It's a long, sweet way across the orchard!--?The poor shote-pig he says, says he:?"When Autumn shakes the rambo-tree?There's enough for you and enough for me."--?It's a long, sweet way across the orchard.
For just two truant lads like we,?When Autumn shakes the rambo-tree?There's enough for you and enough for me--?It's a long, sweet way across the orchard.
When Autumn shakes the rambo-tree--?It's a long, sweet way across the orchard!--?The mole digs out to peep and see--?It's a long, sweet way across the orchard!--?The dusk sags down, and the moon swings free,?There's a far, lorn call, "Pig-gee_! 'Pig-_gee!"?And two boys--glad enough for three.--?It's a long, sweet way across the orchard.
For just two truant lads like we,?When Autumn shakes the rambo-tree?There's enough for you and enough for me--?It's a long, sweet way across the orchard.

[Illustration: "ACROSS THE ORCHARD."]

FIND THE FAVORITE
Our three cats is Maltese cats,?An' they's two that's white,--?An' bofe of 'em's deef--an' that's?'Cause their eyes ain't right.--
[Illustration]
Uncle say that Huxley say?Eyes of white Maltese--?When they don't match thataway--?They're deef as you please!
Girls, they like our white cats best,?'Cause they're white as snow,?Yes, an' look the stylishest--?But they're deef, you know!
They don't know their names, an' don't?Hear us when we call?"Come in, Nick an' Finn!"--they won't?Come fer us at all!
But our other_ cat, _he knows?Mister Nick an' Finn,--?Mowg's his_ name,--an' when _he goes?Fer 'em, they come in!
Mowgli's all his name--the same?Me an' Muvver took?Like the Wolf-Child's other name,?In "The Jungul Book."
I bet Mowg's the smartest cat?In the world!--He's not?White, but mousy-plush, with that?Smoky gloss he's got!
All's got little bells to ring,?Round their neck; but none?Only Mowg knows anything--?He's the only one!
I ist 'spect sometimes he hate?White cats' stupid ways:--?He won't hardly 'sociate?With 'em, lots o' days!
Mowg wants in where we air,--well,?He'll ist take his paw?An' ist ring an' ring his bell?There till me er Ma
Er somebody lets him in?Nen an' shuts the door.--?An', when he wants out ag'in,?Nen he'll ring some more.
Ort to hear our Katy tell!?She sleeps 'way up-stairs;?An' last night she hear Mowg's bell?Ringin' round somewheres...
Trees grows by her winder.--So,?She lean out an' see?Mowg up there, 'way out, you know,?In the clingstone-tree;--
An'-sir! he ist hint_ an' _ring,--?Till she ketch an' plat?Them limbs;--nen he crawl an' spring?In where Katy's at!
[Illustration]

THE BOY PATRIOT
I want to be a Soldier!--
A Soldier!--
A Soldier!--


I want to be a Soldier, with a sabre in my hand?Or a little carbine rifle, or a musket on my shoulder,?Or just a snare-drum, snarling in the middle of the band; I want to hear, high overhead, The Old Flag flap her wings While all the Army, following, in chorus cheers and sings; I want to hear the tramp and jar?Of patriots a million,?As gayly dancing off to war?As dancing a cotillion.
I want to be a Soldier!--