Title:   Love-Songs of Childhood

Subject:  

Author:   Eugene Field

Keywords:  

Creator:  

PDF Version:   1.2



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Bookmarks





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LoveSongs of Childhood

Eugene Field



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Table of Contents

LoveSongs of Childhood ...................................................................................................................................1

Eugene Field............................................................................................................................................1

THE ROCKABY LADY .....................................................................................................................2

"BOOH!" ..................................................................................................................................................3

GARDEN AND CRADLE......................................................................................................................3

THE NIGHT WIND................................................................................................................................4

KISSING TIME .......................................................................................................................................5

JEST 'FORE CHRISTMAS.....................................................................................................................6

BEARD AND BABY..............................................................................................................................7

THE DINKEY BIRD ...............................................................................................................................7

THE DRUM .............................................................................................................................................9

THE DEAD BABE ................................................................................................................................10

THE HAPPY HOUSEHOLD................................................................................................................11

SO, SO, ROCKABY SO! ..................................................................................................................12

THE SONG OF LUDDYDUD ............................................................................................................12

THE DUEL............................................................................................................................................13

GOODCHILDREN STREET ..............................................................................................................14

THE DELECTABLE BALLAD OF THE WALLER LOT..................................................................15

THE STORK ..........................................................................................................................................19

THE BOTTLE TREE............................................................................................................................20

GOOGLYGOO ....................................................................................................................................20

THE BENCHLEGGED FYCE ............................................................................................................21

LITTLE MISS BRAG...........................................................................................................................23

THE HUMMING TOP..........................................................................................................................24

LADY BUTTONEYES .......................................................................................................................25

THE RIDE TO BUMPVILLE...............................................................................................................26

THE BROOK .........................................................................................................................................27

PICNICTIME......................................................................................................................................27

SHUFFLESHOON AND AMBERLOCKS ......................................................................................28

THE SHUTEYE TRAIN.....................................................................................................................29

LITTLEOH DEAR..............................................................................................................................30

THE FLYAWAY HORSE..................................................................................................................31

SWING HIGH AND SWING LOW ......................................................................................................32

WHEN I WAS A BOY ..........................................................................................................................33

AT PLAY ...............................................................................................................................................34

A VALENTINE .....................................................................................................................................34

LITTLE ALLALONEY......................................................................................................................35

SEEIN' THINGS ....................................................................................................................................36

THE CUNNIN' LITTLE THING..........................................................................................................37

THE DOLL'S WOOING.......................................................................................................................38

INSCRIPTION FOR MY LITTLE SON'S SILVER PLATE...............................................................39

FISHERMAN JIM'S KIDS ....................................................................................................................39

"FIDDLEDEEDEE" ..........................................................................................................................40

OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY ................................................................................................41


LoveSongs of Childhood

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Page No 3


LoveSongs of Childhood

Eugene Field

THE ROCKABY LADY 

"BOOH!" 

GARDEN AND CRADLE 

THE NIGHT WIND 

KISSING TIME 

JEST 'FORE CHRISTMAS 

BEARD AND BABY 

THE DINKEY BIRD 

THE DRUM 

THE DEAD BABE 

THE HAPPY HOUSEHOLD 

SO, SO, ROCKABY SO! 

THE SONG OF LUDDYDUD 

THE DUEL 

GOODCHILDREN STREET 

THE DELECTABLE BALLAD OF THE WALLER LOT 

THE STORK 

THE BOTTLE TREE 

GOOGLYGOO 

THE BENCHLEGGED FYCE 

LITTLE MISS BRAG 

THE HUMMING TOP 

LADY BUTTONEYES 

THE RIDE TO BUMPVILLE 

THE BROOK 

PICNICTIME 

SHUFFLESHOON AND AMBERLOCKS 

THE SHUTEYE TRAIN 

LITTLEOH DEAR 

THE FLYAWAY HORSE 

SWING HIGH AND SWING LOW 

WHEN I WAS A BOY 

AT PLAY 

A VALENTINE 

LITTLE ALLALONEY 

SEEIN' THINGS 

THE CUNNIN' LITTLE THING 

THE DOLL'S WOOING 

INSCRIPTION FOR MY LITTLE SON'S SILVER PLATE 

FISHERMAN JIM'S KIDS 

"FIDDLEDEEDEE" 

OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY  

LoveSongs of Childhood 1



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Page No 4


To Mrs. Belle Angler

Dearest Aunt:

Many years ago you used to rock me to sleep, cradling me in your arms and singing me petty songs. Surely

you have not forgotten that time, and I recall it with tenderness. You were very beautiful then. But you are

more beautiful now; for, in the years that have come and gone since then, the joys and the sorrows of

maternity have impressed their saintly grace upon the dear face I used to kiss, and have made your gentle

heart gentler still.

Beloved lady, in memory of years to be recalled only in thought, and in token of my gratitude and affection, I

bring you these little lovesongs, and reverently I lay them at your feet.

Eugene Field 

Chicago, November 1, 1894

THE ROCKABY LADY

The RockaBy Lady from Hushaby street 

Comes stealing; comes creeping; 

The poppies they hang from her head to her feet, 

And each hath a dream that is tiny and fleet  

She bringeth her poppies to you, my sweet, 

When she findeth you sleeping! 

There is one little dream of a beautiful drum  

"Rubadub!" it goeth; 

There is one little dream of a big sugarplum, 

And lo! thick and fast the other dreams come 

Of popguns that bang, and tin tops that hum, 

And a trumpet that bloweth! 

And dollies peep out of those wee little dreams 

With laughter and singing; 

And boats go afloating on silvery streams, 

And the stars peekaboo with their own misty gleams, 

And up, up, and up, where the Mother Moon beams, 

The fairies go winging! 

Would you dream all these dreams that are tiny and fleet? 

They'll come to you sleeping; 

So shut the two eyes that are weary, my sweet, 

For the RockaBy Lady from Hushaby street, 

With poppies that hang from her head to her feet, 

Comes stealing; comes creeping. 


LoveSongs of Childhood

THE ROCKABY LADY 2



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Page No 5


"BOOH!"

On afternoons, when baby boy has had a splendid nap, 

And sits, like any monarch on his throne, in nurse's lap, 

In some such wise my handkerchief I hold before my face, 

And cautiously and quietly I move about the place; 

Then, with a cry, I suddenly expose my face to view, 

And you should hear him laugh and crow when I say "Booh"! 

Sometimes the rascal tries to make believe that he is scared, 

And really, when I first began, he stared, and stared, and stared; 

And then his under lip came out and farther out it came, 

Till mamma and the nurse agreed it was a "cruel shame"  

But now what does that same wee, toddling, lisping baby do 

But laugh and kick his little heels when I say "Booh!" 

He laughs and kicks his little heels in rapturous glee, and then 

In shrill, despotic treble bids me "do it all aden!" 

And I  of course I do it; for, as his progenitor, 

It is such pretty, pleasant play as this that I am for! 

And it is, oh, such fun I and sure that we shall rue 

The time when we are both too old to play the game "Booh!" 

GARDEN AND CRADLE

When our babe he goeth walking in his garden, 

Around his tinkling feet the sunbeams play; 

The posies they are good to him, 

And bow them as they should to him, 

As fareth he upon his kingly way; 

And birdlings of the wood to him 

Make music, gentle music, all the day, 

When our babe he goeth walking in his garden. 

When our babe he goeth swinging in his cradle, 

Then the night it looketh ever sweetly down; 

The little stars are kind to him, 

The moon she hath a mind to him 

And layeth on his head a golden crown; 

And singeth then the wind to him 

A song, the gentle song of Bethlemtown, 

When our babe he goeth swinging in his cradle. 


LoveSongs of Childhood

"BOOH!" 3



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Page No 6


THE NIGHT WIND

Have you ever heard the wind go "Yooooo"? 

'T is a pitiful sound to hear! 

It seems to chill you through and through 

With a strange and speechless fear. 

'T is the voice of the night that broods outside 

When folk should be asleep, 

And many and many's the time I've cried 

To the darkness brooding far and wide 

Over the land and the deep: 

Whom do you want, O lonely night, 

That you wail the long hours through?" 

And the night would say in its ghostly way: 

       "Yoooooooo! 

          Yoooooooo! 

          Yoooooooo!" 

My mother told me long ago 

(When I was a little tad) 

That when the night went wailing so, 

Somebody had been bad; 

And then, when I was snug in bed, 

Whither I had been sent, 

With the blankets pulled up round my head, 

I'd think of what my mother'd said, 

And wonder what boy she meant! 

And "Who's been bad today?" I'd ask 

Of the wind that hoarsely blew, 

And the voice would say in its meaningful way: 

       "Yoooooooo! 

          Yoooooooo! 

          Yoooooooo!" 

That this was true I must allow  

You'll not believe it, though! 

Yes, though I'm quite a model now, 

I was not always so. 

And if you doubt what things I say, 

Suppose you make the test; 

Suppose, when you've been bad some day 

And up to bed are sent away 

From mother and the rest  

Suppose you ask, "Who has been bad?" 

And then you'll hear what's true; 

For the wind will moan in its ruefulest tone: 


LoveSongs of Childhood

THE NIGHT WIND 4



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Page No 7


"Yoooooooo! 

          Yoooooooo! 

          Yoooooooo!" 

KISSING TIME

'T is when the lark goes soaring 

And the bee is at the bud, 

When lightly dancing zephyrs 

Sing over field and flood; 

When all sweet things in nature 

Seem joyfully achime  

'T is then I wake my darling, 

For it is kissing time! 

Go, pretty lark, asoaring, 

And suck your sweets, 0 bee; 

Sing, 0 ye winds of summer, 

Your songs to mine and me; 

For with your song and rapture 

Cometh the moment when 

It's halfpast kissing time 

And time to kiss again! 

So  so the days go fleeting 

Like golden fancies free, 

And every day that cometh 

Is full of sweets for me; 

And sweetest are those moments 

My darling comes to climb 

Into my lap to mind me 

That it is kissing time. 

Sometimes, maybe, he wanders 

A heedless, aimless way  

Sometimes, maybe, he loiters 

In pretty, prattling play; 

But presently bethinks him 

And hastens to me then, 

For it's halfpast kissing time 

And time to kiss again! 


LoveSongs of Childhood

KISSING TIME 5



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Page No 8


JEST 'FORE CHRISTMAS

Father calls me William, sister calls me Will, 

Mother calls me Willie, but the fellers call me Bill! 

Mighty glad I ain't a girl  ruther be a boy, 

Without them sashes, curls, an' things that's worn by Fauntleroy! 

Love to chawnk green apples an' go swimmin' in the lake  

Hate to take the castorile they give for bellyache! 

'Most all the time, the whole year round, there ain't no flies on me, 

But jest 'fore Christmas I'm as good as I kin be! 

Got a yeller dog named Sport, sick him on the cat; 

First thing she knows she doesn't know where she is at! 

Got a clipper sled, an' when us kids goes out to slide, 

'Long comes the grocery cart, an' we all hook a ride! 

But sometimes when the grocery man is worrited an' cross, 

He reaches at us with his whip, an' larrups up his hoss, 

An' then I laff an' holler, "Oh, ye never teched me!" 

But jest 'fore Christmas I'm as good as I kin be! 

Gran'ma says she hopes that when I git to be a man, 

I'll be a missionarer like her oldest brother, Dan, 

As was et up by the cannibuls that lives in Ceylon's Isle, 

Where every prospeck pleases, an' only man is vile! 

But gran'ma she has never been to see a Wild West show, 

Nor read the Life of Daniel Boone, or else I guess she'd know 

That Buff'lo Bill an' cowboys is good enough for me! 

Excep' jest 'fore Christmas, when I'm good as I kin be! 

And then old Sport he hangs around, so solemnlike an' still, 

His eyes they seem asayin': "What's the matter, little Bill?" 

The old cat sneaks down off her perch an' wonders what's become 

Of them two enemies of hern that used to make things hum! 

But I am so perlite an' 'tend so earnestly to biz, 

That mother says to father: "How improved our Willie is!" 

But father, havin' been a boy hisself, suspicions me 

When, jest 'fore Christmas, I'm as good as I kin be! 

For Christmas, with its lots an' lots of candies, cakes, an' toys, 

Was made, they say, for proper kids an' not for naughty boys; 

So wash yer face an' bresh yer hair, an' mind yer p's and q's, 

An' don't bust out yer pantaloons, and don't wear out yer shoes; 

Say "Yessum" to the ladies, an' "Yessur" to the men, 

An' when they's company, don't pass yer plate for pie again; 

But, thinkin' of the things yer'd like to see upon that tree, 

Jest 'fore Christmas be as good as yer kin be! 


LoveSongs of Childhood

JEST 'FORE CHRISTMAS 6



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Page No 9


BEARD AND BABY

I say, as one who never feared 

The wrath of a subscriber's bullet, 

I pity him who has a beard 

But has no little girl to pull it! 

When wife and I have finished tea, 

Our baby woos me with her prattle, 

And, perching proudly on my knee, 

She gives my petted whiskers battle. 

With both her hands she tugs away, 

While scolding at me kind o' spiteful; 

You'll not believe me when I say 

I find the torture quite delightful! 

No other would presume, I ween, 

To trifle with this hirsute wonder, 

Else would I rise in vengeful mien 

And rend his vandal frame asunder! 

But when her baby fingers pull 

This glossy, sleek, and silky treasure, 

My cup of happiness is full  

I fairly glow with pride and pleasure! 

And, sweeter still, through all the day 

I seem to hear her winsome prattle  

I seem to feel her hands at play, 

As though they gave me sportive battle. 

Yes, heavenly music seems to steal 

Where thought of her forever lingers, 

And round my heart I always feel 

The twining of her dimpled fingers! 

THE DINKEY BIRD

In an ocean, 'way out yonder 

(As all sapient people know), 

Is the land of WonderWander, 

Whither children love to go; 


LoveSongs of Childhood

BEARD AND BABY 7



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Page No 10


It's their playing, romping, swinging, 

That give great joy to me 

While the DinkeyBird goes singing 

In the amfalula tree! 

There the gumdrops grow like cherries, 

And taffy's thick as peas  

Caramels you pick like berries 

When, and where, and how you please; 

Big red sugarplums are clinging 

To the cliffs beside that sea 

Where the DinkeyBird is singing 

In the amfalula tree. 

So when children shout and scamper 

And make merry all the day, 

When there's naught to put a damper 

To the ardor of their play; 

When I hear their laughter ringing, 

Then I'm sure as sure can be 

That the DinkeyBird is singing 

In the amfalula tree. 

For the DinkeyBird's bravuras 

And staccatos are so sweet  

His roulades, appoggiaturas, 

And robustos so complete, 

That the youth of every nation  

Be they near or far away  

Have especial delectation 

In that gladsome roundelay. 

Their eyes grow bright and brighter, 

Their lungs begin to crow, 

Their hearts get light and lighter, 

And their cheeks are all aglow; 

For an echo cometh bringing 

The news to all and me, 

That the DinkeyBird is singing 

In the amfalula tree. 

I'm sure you like to go there 

To see your feathered friend  

And so many goodies grow there 

You would like to comprehend! 

Speed, little dreams, your winging 

To that land across the sea 

Where the DinkeyBird is singing 

In the amfalula tree! 


LoveSongs of Childhood

BEARD AND BABY 8



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Page No 11


THE DRUM

I'm a beautiful red, red drum, 

And I train with the soldier boys; 

As up the street we come, 

Wonderful is our noise! 

There's Tom, and Jim, and Phil, 

And Dick, and Nat, and Fred, 

While Widow Cutler's Bill 

And I march on ahead, 

With a rrrattattat 

And a tumtittyumtumtum  

Oh, there's bushels of fun in that 

For boys with a little red drum! 

The Injuns came last night 

While the soldiers were abed, 

And they gobbled a Chinese kite 

And off to the woods they fled! 

The woods are the cherrytrees 

Down in the orchard lot, 

And the soldiers are marching to seize 

The booty the Injuns got. 

With tumtittyumtumtum, 

And rrrattattat, 

When soldiers marching come 

Injuns had better scat! 

Step up there, little Fred, 

And, Charley, have a mind! 

Jim is as far ahead 

As you two are behind! 

Ready with gun and sword 

Your valorous work to do  

Yonder the Injun horde 

Are lying in wait for you. 

And their hearts go pitapat 

When they hear the soldiers come 

With a rrrattattat 

And a tumtittyumtumtum! 

Course it's all in play! 

The skulking Injun crew 

That hustled the kite away 

Are little white boys, like you! 

But "honest" or "just in fun," 


LoveSongs of Childhood

THE DRUM 9



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Page No 12


It is all the same to me; 

And, when the battle is won, 

Home once again march we 

With a rrrattattat 

And tumtittyumtumtum; 

And there's glory enough in that 

For the boys with their little red drum! 

THE DEAD BABE

Last night, as my dear babe lay dead, 

In agony I knelt and said: 

"0 God! what have I done, 

Or in what wise offended Thee, 

That Thou should'st take away from me 

My little son? 

"Upon the thousand useless lives, 

Upon the guilt that vaunting thrives, 

Thy wrath were better spent! 

Why should'st Thou take my little son  

Why should'st Thou vent Thy wrath upon 

This innocent?" 

Last night, as my dear babe lay dead, 

Before mine eyes the vision spread 

Of things that might have been: 

Licentious riot, cruel strife, 

Forgotten prayers, a wasted life 

Dark red with sin! 

Then, with sweet music in the air, 

I saw another vision there: 

A Shepherd in whose keep 

A little lamb  my little child! 

Of worldly wisdom undefiled, 

Lay fast asleep! 

Last night, as my dear babe lay dead, 

In those two messages I read 

A wisdom manifest; 

And though my arms be childless now, 

I am content  to Him I bow 

Who knoweth best. 


LoveSongs of Childhood

THE DEAD BABE 10



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Page No 13


THE HAPPY HOUSEHOLD

It's when the birds go piping and the daylight slowly breaks, 

That, clamoring for his dinner, our precious baby wakes; 

Then it's sleep no more for baby, and it's sleep no more for me, 

For, when he wants his dinner, why it's dinner it must be! 

And of that lacteal fluid he partakes with great ado, 

   While gran'ma laughs, 

   And gran'pa laughs, 

   And wife, she laughs, 

   And I  well, I laugh, too! 

You'd think, to see us carrying on about that little tad, 

That, like as not, that baby was the first we'd ever had; 

But, sakes alive! he isn't, yet we people make a fuss 

As if the only baby in the world had come to us! 

And, morning, noon, and nighttime, whatever he may do, 

   Gran'ma, she laughs, 

   Gran'pa, he laughs, 

   Wife, she laughs, 

   And I, of course, laugh, too! 

But once  a likely spell ago  when that poor little chick 

From teething or from some such ill of infancy fell sick, 

You wouldn't know us people as the same that went about 

Afeelin' good all over, just to hear him crow and shout; 

And, though the doctor poohed our fears and said he'd pull him through, 

   Old gran'ma cried, 

   And gran'pa cried, 

   And wife, she cried, 

   And I  yes, I cried, too! 

It makes us all feel good to have a baby on the place, 

With his everlastin' crowing and his dimpling, dumpling face; 

The patter of his pinky feet makes music everywhere, 

And when he shakes those fists of his, goodby to every care! 

No matter what our trouble is, when he begins to coo, 

   Old gran'ma laughs, 

   And gran'pa laughs, 

   Wife, she laughs, 

   And I  you bet, I laugh, too! 


LoveSongs of Childhood

THE HAPPY HOUSEHOLD 11



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Page No 14


SO, SO, ROCKABY SO!

So, so, rockaby so! 

Off to the garden where dreamikins grow; 

And here is a kiss on your winkyblink eyes, 

And here is a kiss on your dimpledown cheek 

And here is a kiss for the treasure that lies 

In the beautiful garden way up in the skies 

Which you seek. 

Now mind these three kisses wherever you go  

So, so, rockaby so! 

There's one little fumfay who lives there, I know, 

For he dances all night where the dreamikins grow; 

I send him this kiss on your droopydrop eyes, 

I send him this kiss on your rosyred cheek. 

And here is a kiss for the dream that shall rise 

When the fumfay shall dance in those faraway skies 

Which you seek. 

Be sure that you pay those three kisses you owe  

So, so, rockaby so! 

And, bylow, as you rockaby go, 

Don't forget mother who loveth you so! 

And here is her kiss on your weepydeep eyes, 

And here is her kiss on your peachypink cheek, 

And here is her kiss for the dreamland that lies 

Like a babe on the breast of those faraway skies 

Which you seek  

The blinkywink garden where dreamikins grow  

So, so, rockaby so! 

THE SONG OF LUDDYDUD

A sunbeam comes acreeping 

Into my dear one's nest, 

And sings to our babe asleeping 

The song that I love the best: 

"'T is little LuddyDud in the morning  

'T is little LuddyDud at night; 

And all day long 

'T is the same sweet song 

Of that waddling, toddling, coddling little mite, 


LoveSongs of Childhood

SO, SO, ROCKABY SO! 12



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Page No 15


LuddyDud." 

The bird to the tossing clover, 

The bee to the swaying bud, 

Keep singing that sweet song over 

Of wee little LuddyDud. 

"'T is little LuddyDud in the morning  

'T is little LuddyDud at night; 

And all day long 

'T is the same dear song 

Of that growing, crowing, knowing little sprite, 

LuddyDud." 

LuddyDud's cradle is swinging 

Where softly the night winds blow, 

And LuddyDud's mother is singing 

A song that is sweet and low: 

"'T is little LuddyDud in the morning  

'T is little LuddyDud at night; 

And all day long 

'T is the same sweet song 

Of my nearest and my dearest heart's delight, 

LuddyDud!" 

THE DUEL

The gingham dog and the calico cat 

Side by side on the table sat; 

'T was halfpast twelve, and (what do you think!) 

Nor one nor t' other had slept a wink! 

The old Dutch clock and the Chinese plate 

Appeared to know as sure as fate 

There was going to be a terrible spat. 

(I wasn't there; I simply state 

What was told to me by the Chinese plate!) 

The gingham dog went "bowwowwow!" 

And the calico cat replied "meeow!" 

The air was littered, an hour or so, 

With bits of gingham and calico, 

While the old Dutch clock in the chimney place 

Up with its hands before its face, 

For it always dreaded a family row! 

(Now mind: I'm only telling you 

What the old Dutch clock declares is true!) 


LoveSongs of Childhood

THE DUEL 13



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Page No 16


The Chinese plate looked very blue, 

And wailed, "Oh, dear! what shall we do!" 

But the gingham dog and the calico cat 

Wallowed this way and tumbled that, 

Employing every tooth and claw 

In the awfullest way you ever saw  

And, oh! how the gingham and calico flew! 

(Don't fancy I exaggerate  

I got my news from the Chinese plate!) 

Next morning, where the two had sat 

They found no trace of dog or cat; 

And some folks think unto this day 

That burglars stole that pair away! 

But the truth about the cat and pup 

Is this: they ate each other up! 

Now what do you really think of that! 

(The old Dutch clock it told me so, 

And that is how I came to know.) 

GOODCHILDREN STREET

There's a dear little home in GoodChildren street  

My heart turneth fondly today 

Where tinkle of tongues and patter of feet 

Make sweetest of music at play; 

Where the sunshine of love illumines each face 

And warms every heart in that oldfashioned place. 

For dear little children go romping about 

With dollies and tin tops and drums, 

And, my! how they frolic and scamper and shout 

Till bedtime too speedily comes! 

Oh, days they are golden and days they are fleet 

With little folk living in GoodChildren street. 

See, here comes an army with guns painted red, 

And swords, caps, and plumes of all sorts; 

The captain rides gaily and proudly ahead 

On a stickhorse that prances and snorts! 

Oh, legions of soldiers you're certain to meet  

Nice makebelieve soldiers  in GoodChildren street. 

And yonder Odette wheels her dolly about  

Poor dolly! I'm sure she is ill, 

For one of her blue china eyes has dropped out 


LoveSongs of Childhood

GOODCHILDREN STREET 14



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Page No 17


And her voice is asthmatic'ly shrill. 

Then, too, I observe she is minus her feet, 

Which causes much sorrow in GoodChildren street. 

'T is so the dear children go romping about 

With dollies and banners and drums, 

And I venture to say they are sadly put out 

When an end to their jubilee comes: 

Oh, days they are golden and days they are fleet 

With little folk living in GoodChildren street! 

But when falleth night over river and town, 

Those little folk vanish from sight, 

And an angel all white from the sky cometh down 

And guardeth the babes through the night, 

And singeth her lullabies tender and sweet 

To the dear little people in GoodChildren Street. 

Though elsewhere the world be o'erburdened with care, 

Though poverty fall to my lot, 

Though toil and vexation be always my share, 

What care I  they trouble me not! 

This thought maketh life ever joyous and Sweet: 

There's a dear little home in GoodChildren street. 

THE DELECTABLE BALLAD OF THE WALLER LOT

Up yonder in Buena Park 

There is a famous spot, 

In legend and in history 

Yclept the Waller Lot. 

There children play in daytime 

And lovers stroll by dark, 

For 't is the goodliest trystingplace 

In all Buena Park. 

Once on a time that beauteous maid, 

Sweet little Sissy Knott, 

Took out her pretty doll to walk 

Within the Waller Lot. 

While thus she fared, from Ravenswood 

Came Injuns o'er the plain, 

And seized upon that beauteous maid 

And rent her doll in twain. 


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Page No 18


Oh, 't was a piteous thing to hear 

Her lamentations wild; 

She tore her golden curls and cried: 

"My child! My child! My child!" 

Alas, what cared those Injun chiefs 

How bitterly wailed she? 

They never had been mothers, 

And they could not hope to be! 

"Have done with tears," they rudely quoth, 

And then they bound her hands; 

For they proposed to take her off 

To distant border lands. 

But, joy! from Mr. Eddy's barn 

Doth Willie Clow behold 

The sight that makes his hair rise up 

And all his blood run cold. 

He put his fingers in his mouth 

And whistled long and clear, 

And presently a goodly horde 

Of cowboys did appear. 

Cried Willie Clow: "My comrades bold, 

Haste to the Waller Lot, 

And rescue from that Injun band 

Our charming Sissy Knott!" 

"Spare neither Injun buck nor squaw, 

But smite them hide and hair! 

Spare neither sex nor age nor size, 

And no condition spare!" 

Then sped that cowboy band away, 

Full of revengeful wrath, 

And Kendall Evans rode ahead 

Upon a hickory lath. 

And next came gallant Dady Field 

And Willie's brother Kent, 

The Eddy boys and Robbie James, 

On murderous purpose bent. 

For they were much beholden to 

That maid  in sooth, the lot 

Were very, very much in love 

With charming Sissy Knott. 


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Page No 19


What wonder? She was beauty's queen, 

And good beyond compare; 

Moreover, it was known she was 

Her wealthy father's heir! 

Now when the Injuns saw that band 

They trembled with affright, 

And yet they thought the cheapest thing 

To do was stay and fight. 

So sturdily they stood their ground, 

Nor would their prisoner yield, 

Despite the wrath of Willie Clow 

And gallant Dady Field. 

Oh, never fiercer battle raged 

Upon the Waller Lot, 

And never blood more freely flowed 

Than flowed for Sissy Knott! 

An Injun chief of monstrous size 

Got Kendall Evans down, 

And Robbie James was soon o'erthrown 

By one of great renown. 

And Dady Field was sorely done, 

And Willie Clow was hurt, 

And all that gallant cowboy band 

Lay wallowing in the dirt. 

But still they strove with might and main 

Till all the Waller Lot 

Was strewn with hair and gouts of gore  

All, all for Sissy Knott! 

Then cried the maiden in despair: 

"Alas, I sadly fear 

The battle and my hopes are lost, 

Unless some help appear!" 

Lo, as she spoke, she saw afar 

The rescuer looming up  

The pride of all Buena Park, 

Clow's famous yellow pup! 

"Now, sick'em, Don," the maiden cried, 

"Now, sick'em, Don!" cried she; 

Obedient Don at once complied  

As ordered, so did he. 

He sicked'em all so passing well 


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Page No 20


That, overcome by fright, 

The Indian horde gave up the fray 

And safety sought in flight. 

They ran and ran and ran and ran 

O'er valley, plain, and hill; 

And if they are not walking now, 

Why, then, they're running still. 

The cowboys rose up from the dust 

With faces black and blue; 

"Remember, beauteous maid," said they, 

"We've bled and died for you!" 

"And though we suffer grievously, 

We gladly hail the lot 

That brings us toils and pains and wounds 

For charming Sissy Knott!" 

But Sissy Knott still wailed and wept, 

And still her fate reviled; 

For who could patch her dolly up  

Who, who could mend her child? 

Then out her doting mother came, 

And soothed her daughter then; 

"Grieve not, my darling, I will sew 

Your dolly up again!" 

Joy soon succeeded unto grief, 

And tears were soon dried up, 

And dignities were heaped upon 

Clow's noble yellow pup. 

Him all that goodly company 

Did as deliverer hail  

They tied a ribbon round his neck, 

Another round his tail. 

And every anniversary day 

Upon the Waller Lot 

They celebrate the victory won 

For charming Sissy Knott. 

And I, the poet of these folk, 

Am ordered to compile 

This truly famous history 

In good old ballad style. 

Which having done as to have earned 

The sweet rewards of fame, 


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Page No 21


In what same style I did begin 

I now shall end the same. 

So let us sing: Long live the King, 

Long live the Queen and Jack, 

Long live the tenspot and the ace, 

And also all the pack. 

THE STORK

Last night the Stork came stalking, 

And, Stork, beneath your wing 

Lay, lapped in dreamless slumber, 

The tiniest little thing! 

From Babyland, out yonder 

Beside a silver sea, 

You brought a priceless treasure 

As gift to mine and me! 

Last night my dear one listened  

And, wife, you knew the cry  

The dear old Stork has sought our home 

A many times gone by! 

And in your gentle bosom 

I found the pretty thing 

That from the realm out yonder 

Our friend the Stork did bring. 

Last night a babe awakened, 

And, babe, how strange and new 

Must seem the home and people 

The Stork has brought you to; 

And yet methinks you like them  

You neither stare nor weep, 

But closer to my dear one 

You cuddle, and you sleep! 

Last night my heart grew fonder  

0 happy heart of mine, 

Sing of the inspirations 

That round my pathway shine! 

And sing your sweetest lovesong 

To this dear nestling wee 

The Stork from 'WayOutYonder 

Hath brought to mine and me! 


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Page No 22


THE BOTTLE TREE

A bottle tree bloometh in Winkyway land  

Heighho for a bottle, I say! 

A snug little berth in that ship I demand 

That rocketh the BottleTree babies away 

Where the Bottle Tree bloometh by night and by day 

And reacheth its fruit to each wee, dimpled hand; 

You take of that fruit as much as you list, 

For colic's a nuisance that doesn't exist! 

So cuddle me and cuddle me fast, 

And cuddle me snug in my cradle away, 

For I hunger and thirst for that precious repast  

Heighho for a bottle, I say! 

The Bottle Tree bloometh by night and by day! 

Heighho for Winkyway land! 

And BottleTree fruit (as I've heard people say) 

Makes bellies of BottleTree babies expand  

And that is a trick I would fain understand! 

Heighho for a bottle today! 

And heighho for a bottle tonight  

A bottle of milk that is creamy and white! 

So cuddle me close, and cuddle me fast, 

And cuddle me snug in my cradle away, 

For I hunger and thirst for that precious repast  

Heighho for a bottle, I say! 

GOOGLYGOO

Of mornings, bright and early, 

When the lark is on the wing 

And the robin in the maple 

Hops from her nest to sing, 

From yonder cheery chamber 

Cometh a mellow coo  

'T is the sweet, persuasive treble 

Of my little GooglyGoo! 

The sunbeams hear his music, 


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Page No 23


And they seek his little bed, 

And they dance their prettiest dances 

Round his golden curly head: 

Schottisches, galops, minuets, 

Gavottes and waltzes, too, 

Dance they unto the music 

Of my googling GooglyGoo. 

My heart  my heart it leapeth 

To hear that treble tone; 

What music like thy music, 

My darling and mine own! 

And patiently  yes, cheerfully 

I toil the long day through  

My labor seemeth lightened 

By the song of GooglyGoo! 

I may not see his antics, 

Nor kiss his dimpled cheek: 

I may not smooth the tresses 

The sunbeams love to seek; 

It mattereth not  the echo 

Of his sweet, persuasive coo 

Recurreth to remind me 

Of my little GooglyGoo. 

And when I come at evening, 

I stand without the door 

And patiently I listen 

For that dear sound once more; 

And oftentimes I wonder, 

"Oh, God! what should I do 

If any ill should happen 

To my little GooglyGoo!" 

Then in affright I call him  

I hear his gleeful shouts! 

Begone, ye dread forebodings  

Begone, ye killing doubts! 

For, with my arms about him, 

My heart warms through and through 

With the oogling and the googling 

Of my little GooglyGoo! 

THE BENCHLEGGED FYCE


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Page No 24


Speakin' of dorgs, my benchlegged fyce 

Hed most o' the virtues, an' nary a vice. 

Some folks called him Sooner, a name that arose 

From his predisposition to chronic repose; 

But, rouse his ambition, he couldn't be beat  

Yer bet yer he got thar on all his four feet! 

Mos' dorgs hez some forte  like huntin' an' such, 

But the sports o' the field didn't bother him much; 

Wuz just a plain dorg, an' contented to be 

On peaceable terms with the neighbors an' me; 

Used to fiddle an' squirm, and grunt "Oh, how nice!" 

When I tickled the back of that benchlegged fyce! 

He wuz long in the bar'l, like a fyce oughter be; 

His color wuz yaller as ever you see; 

His tail, curlin' upward, wuz long, loose, an' slim  

When he didn't wag it, why, the tail it wagged him! 

His legs wuz so crooked, my benchlegged pup 

Wuz as tall settin' down as he wuz standin' up! 

He'd lie by the stove of a night an' regret 

The various vittles an' things he had et; 

When a stranger, most likely a tramp, come along, 

He'd lift up his voice in significant song  

You wondered, by gum! how there ever wuz space 

In that bosom o' his'n to hold so much bass! 

Of daytimes he'd sneak to the road an' lie down, 

An' tackle the country dorgs comin' to town; 

By common consent he wuz boss in St. Joe, 

For what he took hold of he never let go! 

An' a dude that come courtin' our girl left a slice 

Of his white flannel suit with our benchlegged fyce! 

He wuz good to us kids  when we pulled at his fur 

Or twisted his tail he would never demur; 

He seemed to enjoy all our play an' our chaff, 

For his tongue 'u'd hang out an' he'd laff an' he'd laff; 

An' once, when the Hobart boy fell through the ice, 

He wuz drug clean ashore by that benchlegged fyce! 

We all hev our choice, an' you, like the rest, 

Allow that the dorg which you've got is the best; 

I wouldn't give much for the boy 'at grows up 

With no friendship subsistin' 'tween him an' a pup! 

When a fellow gits old  I tell you it's nice 

To think of his youth and his benchlegged fyce! 

To think of the springtime 'way back in St. Joe  

Of the peachtrees abloom an' the daisies ablow; 


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Page No 25


To think of the play in the medder an' grove, 

When little legs wrassled an' little han's strove; 

To think of the loyalty, valor, an' truth 

Of the friendships that hallow the season of youth! 

LITTLE MISS BRAG

Little Miss Brag has much to say 

To the rich little lady from over the way 

And the rich little lady puts out a lip 

As she looks at her own white, dainty slip, 

And wishes that she could wear a gown 

As pretty as gingham of faded brown! 

For little Miss Brag she lays much stress 

On the privileges of a gingham dress  

       "Aha, 

          Oho!" 

The rich little lady from over the way 

Has beautiful dolls in vast array; 

Yet she envies the raggedy homemade doll 

She hears our little Miss Brag extol. 

For the raggedy doll can fear no hurt 

From wet, or heat, or tumble, or dirt! 

Her nose is inked, and her mouth is, too, 

And one eye's black and the other's blue  

       "Aha, 

          Oho!" 

The rich little lady goes out to ride 

With footmen standing up outside, 

Yet wishes that, sometimes, after dark 

Her father would trundle her in the park;  

That, sometimes, her mother would sing the things 

Little Miss Brag says her mother sings 

When through the attic window streams 

The moonlight full of golden dreams  

       "Aha, 

          Oho!" 

Yes, little Miss Brag has much to say 

To the rich little lady from over the way; 

And yet who knows but from her heart 

Often the bitter sighs upstart  

Uprise to lose their burn and sting 

In the grace of the tongue that loves to sing 


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Page No 26


Praise of the treasures all its own! 

So I've come to love that treble tone  

       "Aha, 

          Oho!" 

THE HUMMING TOP

The top it hummeth a sweet, sweet song 

To my dear little boy at play  

Merrily singeth all day long, 

As it spinneth and spinneth away. 

And my dear little boy 

He laugheth with joy 

When he heareth the monotone 

Of that busy thing 

That loveth to sing 

The song that is all its own. 

Hold fast the string and wind it tight, 

That the song be loud and clear; 

Now hurl the top with all your might 

Upon the banquette here; 

And straight from the string 

The joyous thing 

Boundeth and spinneth along, 

And it whirrs and it chirrs 

And it birrs and it purrs 

Ever its pretty song. 

Will ever my dear little boy grow old, 

As some have grown before? 

Will ever his heart feel faint and cold, 

When he heareth the songs of yore? 

Will ever this toy 

Of my dear little boy, 

When the years have worn away, 

Sing sad and low 

Of the long ago, 

As it singeth to me today? 


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Page No 27


LADY BUTTONEYES

When the busy day is done, 

And my weary little one 

Rocketh gently to and fro; 

When the night winds softly blow, 

And the crickets in the glen 

Chirp and chirp and chirp again; 

When upon the haunted green 

Fairies dance around their queen  

Then from yonder misty skies 

Cometh Lady ButtonEyes. 

Through the murk and mist and gloam 

To our quiet, cozy home, 

Where to singing, sweet and low, 

Rocks a cradle to and fro; 

Where the clock's dull monotone 

Telleth of the day that's done; 

Where the moonbeams hover o'er 

Playthings sleeping on the floor  

Where my weary wee one lies 

Cometh Lady ButtonEyes. 

Cometh like a fleeting ghost 

From some distant eerie coast; 

Never footfall can you hear 

As that spirit fareth near  

Never whisper, never word 

From that shadowqueen is heard. 

In ethereal raiment dight, 

From the realm of fay and sprite 

In the depth of yonder skies 

Cometh Lady ButtonEyes. 

Layeth she her hands upon 

My dear weary little one, 

And those white hands overspread 

Like a veil the curly head, 

Seem to fondle and caress 

Every little silken tress; 

Then she smooths the eyelids down 

Over those two eyes of brown  

In such soothing, tender wise 

Cometh Lady ButtonEyes. 

Dearest, feel upon your brow 

That caressing magic now; 

For the crickets in the glen 


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Page No 28


Chirp and chirp and chirp again, 

While upon the haunted green 

Fairies dance around their queen, 

And the moonbeams hover o'er 

Playthings sleeping on the floor  

Hush, my sweet! from yonder skies 

Cometh Lady ButtonEyes! 

THE RIDE TO BUMPVILLE

Play that my knee was a calico mare 

Saddled and bridled for Bumpville; 

Leap to the back of this steed, if you dare, 

And gallop away to Bumpville! 

I hope you'll be sure to sit fast in your seat, 

For this calico mare is prodigiously fleet, 

And many adventures you're likely to meet 

As you journey along to Bumpville. 

This calico mare both gallops and trots 

While whisking you off to Bumpville; 

She paces, she shies, and she stumbles, in spots, 

In the tortuous road to Bumpville; 

And sometimes this strangely mercurial steed 

Will suddenly stop and refuse to proceed, 

Which, all will admit, is vexatious indeed, 

When one is en route to Bumpville! 

She's scared of the cars when the engine goes "Toot!" 

Down by the crossing at Bumpville; 

You'd better look out for that treacherous brute 

Bearing you off to Bumpville! 

With a snort she rears up on her hindermost heels, 

And executes jigs and Virginia reels  

Words fail to explain how embarrassed one feels 

Dancing so wildly to Bumpville! 

It's bumpytybump and it's jiggytyjog, 

Journeying on to Bumpville 

It's over the hilltop and down through the bog 

You ride on your way to Bumpville; 

It's rattletybang over boulder and stump, 

There are rivers to ford, there are fences to jump, 

And the corduroy road it goes bumpytybump, 

Mile after mile to bumpville! 


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Page No 29


Perhaps you'll observe it's no easy thing 

Making the journey to Bumpville, 

So I think, on the whole, it were prudent to bring 

An end to this ride to Bumpville; 

For, though she has uttered no protest or plaint, 

The calico mare must be blowing and faint  

What's more to the point, I'm blowed if I ain't! 

So play we have got to Bumpville! 

THE BROOK

I looked in the brook and saw a face  

Heighho, but a child was I! 

There were rushes and willows in that place, 

And they clutched at the brook as the brook ran by; 

And the brook it ran its own sweet way, 

As a child doth run in heedless play, 

And as it ran I heard it say: 

"Hasten with me 

To the roistering sea 

That is wroth with the flame of the morning sky!" 

I look in the brook and see a face  

Heighho, but the years go by! 

The rushes are dead in the oldtime place, 

And the willows I knew when a child was I. 

And the brook it seemeth to me to say, 

As ever it stealeth on its way  

Solemnly now, and not in play: 

"Oh, come with me 

To the slumbrous sea 

That is gray with the peace of the evening sky!" 

Heighho, but the years go by  

I would to God that a child were I! 

PICNICTIME

It's June ag'in, an' in my soul I feel the fillin' joy 

That's sure to come this time o' year to every little boy; 


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Page No 30


For, every June, the Sundayschools at picnics may be seen, 

Where "fields beyont the swellin' floods stand dressed in livin' green"; 

Where little girls are skeered to death with spiders, bugs, and ants, 

An' little boys get grassstains on their goto meetin' pants. 

It's June ag'in, an' with it all what happiness is mine  

There's goin' to be a picnic, an' I'm goin' to jine! 

One year I jined the Baptists, an' goodness! how it rained! 

(But grampa says that that's the way "baptizo" is explained.) 

And once I jined the 'Piscopils an' had a heap o' fun  

But the boss of all the picnics was the Presbyteriun! 

They had so many puddin's, sallids, sandwidges, an' pies, 

That a feller wisht his stummick was as hungry as his eyes! 

Oh, yes, the eatin' Presbyteriuns give yer is so fine 

That when they have a picnic, you bet I'm goin' to jine! 

But at this time the Methodists have special claims on me, 

For they're goin' to give a picnic on the 21st, D. V.; 

Why should a liberal universalist like me object 

To share the joys of fellowship with every friendly sect? 

However het'rodox their articles of faith elsewise may be, 

Their doctrine of fried chick'n is a savin' grace to me! 

So on the 21st of June, the weather bein' fine, 

They're goin' to give a picnic, and I'm goin' to jine! 

SHUFFLESHOON AND AMBERLOCKS

Shuffleshoon and AmberLocks 

Sit together, building blocks; 

ShuffleShoon is old and gray, 

AmberLocks a little child, 

But together at their play 

Age and Youth are reconciled, 

And with sympathetic glee 

Build their castles fair to see. 

"When I grow to be a man" 

(So the wee one's prattle ran), 

"I shall build a castle so  

With a gateway broad and grand; 

Here a pretty vine shall grow, 

There a soldier guard shall stand; 

And the tower shall be so high, 

Folks will wonder, by and by!" 

ShuffleShoon quoth: "Yes, I know; 


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Page No 31


Thus I builded long ago! 

Here a gate and there a wall, 

Here a window, there a door; 

Here a steeple wondrous tall 

Riseth ever more and more! 

But the years have leveled low 

What I builded long ago!" 

So they gossip at their play, 

Heedless of the fleeting day; 

One speaks of the Long Ago 

Where his dead hopes buried lie; 

One with chubby cheeks aglow 

Prattleth of the By and By; 

Side by side, they build their blocks  

ShuffleShoon and AmberLocks. 

THE SHUTEYE TRAIN

Come, my little one, with me! 

There are wondrous sights to see 

As the evening shadows fall; 

In your pretty cap and gown, 

Don't detain 

The ShutEye train  

"Tingaling!" the bell it goeth, 

"Toottoot!" the whistle bloweth, 

And we hear the warning call: 

"All aboard for ShutEye Town!" 

Over hill and over plain 

Soon will speed the ShutEye train! 

Through the blue where bloom the stars 

And the Mother Moon looks down 

We'll away 

To land of Fay  

Oh, the sights that we shall see there! 

Come, my little one, with me there  

'T is a goodly train of cars  

All aboard for ShutEye Town! 

Swifter than a wild bird's flight, 

Through the realms of fleecy light 

We shall speed and speed away! 

Let the Night in envy frown  

What care we 


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Page No 32


How wroth she be! 

To the Balowland above us, 

To the Balowfolk who love us, 

Let us hasten while we may  

All aboard for ShutEye Town! 

ShutEye Town is passing fair  

Golden dreams await us there; 

We shall dream those dreams, my dear, 

Till the Mother Moon goes down  

See unfold 

Delights untold! 

And in those mysterious places 

We shall see beloved faces 

And beloved voices hear 

In the grace of ShutEye Town. 

Heavy are your eyes, my sweet, 

Weary are your little feet  

Nestle closer up to me 

In your pretty cap and gown; 

Don't detain 

The ShutEye train! 

"Tingaling!" the bell it goeth, 

"Toottoot!" the whistle bloweth 

Oh, the sights that we shall see! 

All aboard for ShutEye Town! 

LITTLEOH DEAR

See, what a wonderful garden is here, 

Planted and trimmed for my LittleOhDear! 

Posies so gaudy and grass of such brown  

Search ye the country and hunt ye the town 

And never ye'll meet with a garden so queer 

As this one I've made for my LittleOhDear! 

Marigolds white and buttercups blue, 

Lilies all dabbled with honey and dew, 

The cactus that trails over trellis and wall, 

Roses and pansies and violets  all 

Make proper obeisance and reverent cheer 

When into her garden steps LittleOhDear. 

And up at the top of that lavendertree 

A silverbird singeth as only can she; 


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Page No 33


For, ever and only, she singeth the song 

"I love you  I love you!" the happy day long;  

Then the echo  the echo that smiteth me here! 

"I love you, I love you," my LittleOhDear! 

The garden may wither, the silverbird fly  

But what careth my little precious, or I? 

From her pathway of flowers that in spring time upstart 

She walketh the tenderer way in my heart 

And, oh, it is always the summertime here 

With that song of "I love you," my LittleOhDear! 

THE FLYAWAY HORSE

Oh, a wonderful horse is the FlyAway Horse  

Perhaps you have seen him before; 

Perhaps, while you slept, his shadow has swept 

Through the moonlight that floats on the floor. 

For it's only at night, when the stars twinkle bright, 

That the FlyAway Horse, with a neigh 

And a pull at his rein and a toss of his mane, 

Is up on his heels and away! 

The Moon in the sky, 

As he gallopeth by, 

Cries: "Oh! what a marvelous sight!" 

And the Stars in dismay 

Hide their faces away 

In the lap of old Grandmother Night. 

It is yonder, out yonder, the FlyAway Horse 

Speedeth ever and ever away  

Over meadows and lanes, over mountains and plains, 

Over streamlets that sing at their play; 

And over the sea like a ghost sweepeth he, 

While the ships they go sailing below, 

And he speedeth so fast that the men at the mast 

Adjudge him some portent of woe. 

"What ho there!" they cry, 

As he flourishes by 

With a whisk of his beautiful tail; 

And the fish in the sea 

Are as scared as can be, 

From the nautilus up to the whale! 

And the FlyAway Horse seeks those faraway lands 


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Page No 34


You little folk dream of at night  

Where candytrees grow, and honeybrooks flow, 

And cornfields with popcorn are white; 

And the beasts in the wood are ever so good 

To children who visit them there  

What glory astride of a lion to ride, 

Or to wrestle around with a bear! 

The monkeys, they say: 

"Come on, let us play," 

And they frisk in the cocoanuttrees: 

While the parrots, that cling 

To the peanutvines, sing 

Or converse with comparative ease! 

Off! scamper to bed  you shall ride him tonight! 

For, as soon as you've fallen asleep, 

With a jubilant neigh he shall bear you away 

Over forest and hillside and deep! 

But tell us, my dear, all you see and you hear 

In those beautiful lands over there, 

Where the FlyAway Horse wings his faraway course 

With the wee one consigned to his care. 

Then grandma will cry 

In amazement: "Oh, my!" 

And she'll think it could never be so; 

And only we two 

Shall know it is true  

You and I, little precious! shall know! 

SWING HIGH AND SWING LOW

Swing high and swing low 

While the breezes they blow  

It's off for a sailor thy father would go; 

And it's here in the harbor, in sight of the sea, 

He hath left his wee babe with my song and with me: 

"Swing high and swing low 

While the breezes they blow!" 

Swing high and swing low 

While the breezes they blow  

It's oh for the waiting as weary days go! 

And it's oh for the heartache that smiteth me when 

I sing my song over and over again: 

"Swing high and swing low 

While the breezes they blow!" 


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Page No 35


"Swing high and swing low "  

The sea singeth so, 

And it waileth anon in its ebb and its flow; 

And a sleeper sleeps on to that song of the sea 

Nor recketh he ever of mine or of me! 

"Swing high and swing low 

While the breezes they blow  

'T was off for a sailor thy father would go!" 

WHEN I WAS A BOY

Up in the attic where I slept 

When I was a boy, a little boy, 

In through the lattice the moonlight crept, 

Bringing a tide of dreams that swept 

Over the low, red trundlebed, 

Bathing the tangled curly head, 

While moonbeams played at hideandseek 

With the dimples on the sunbrowned cheek  

When I was a boy, a little boy! 

And, oh! the dreams  the dreams I dreamed! 

When I was a boy, a little boy! 

For the grace that through the lattice streamed 

Over my folded eyelids seemed 

To have the gift of prophecy, 

And to bring me glimpses of times to be 

When manhood's clarion seemed to call  

Ah! that was the sweetest dream of all, 

When I was a boy, a little boy! 

I'd like to sleep where I used to sleep 

When I was a boy, a little boy! 

For in at the lattice the moon would peep, 

Bringing her tide of dreams to sweep 

The crosses and griefs of the years away 

From the heart that is weary and faint today; 

And those dreams should give me back again 

A peace I have never known since then  

When I was a boy, a little boy! 


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Page No 36


AT PLAY

Play that you are mother dear, 

And play that papa is your beau; 

Play that we sit in the corner here, 

Just as we used to, long ago. 

Playing so, we lovers two 

Are just as happy as we can be, 

And I'll say "I love you" to you, 

And you say "I love you" to me! 

"I love you" we both shall say, 

All in earnest and all in play. 

Or, play that you are that other one 

That some time came, and went away; 

And play that the light of years agone 

Stole into my heart again today! 

Playing that you are the one I knew 

In the days that never again may be, 

I'll say "I love you" to you, 

And you say "I love you" to me! 

I love you!" my heart shall say 

To the ghost of the past come back today! 

Or, play that you sought this nestlingplace 

For your own sweet self, with that dual guise 

Of your pretty mother in your face 

And the look of that other in your eyes! 

So the dear old loves shall live anew 

As I hold my darling on my knee, 

And I'll say "I love you" to you, 

And you say "I love you" to me! 

Oh, many a strange, true thing we say 

And do when we pretend to play! 

A VALENTINE

Go, Cupid, and my sweetheart tell 

I love her well. 

Yes, though she tramples on my heart 

And rends that bleeding thing apart; 

And though she rolls a scornful eye 

On doting me when I go by; 


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And though she scouts at everything 

As tribute unto her I bring  

Apple, banana, caramel  

Haste, Cupid, to my love and tell, 

In spite of all, I love her well! 

And further say I have a sled 

Cushioned in blue and painted red! 

The groceryman has promised I 

Can "hitch" whenever he goes by  

Go, tell her that, and, furthermore, 

Apprise my sweetheart that a score 

Of other little girls implore 

The boon of riding on that sled 

Painted and hitched, as aforesaid;  

And tell her, Cupid, only she 

Shall ride upon that sled with me! 

Tell her this all, and further tell 

I love her well. 

LITTLE ALLALONEY

Little AllAloney's feet 

Pitterpatter in the hall, 

And his mother runs to meet 

And to kiss her toddling sweet, 

Ere perchance he fall. 

He is, oh, so weak and small! 

Yet what danger shall he fear 

When his mother hovereth near, 

And he hears her cheering call: 

"AllAloney"? 

Little AllAloney's face 

It is all aglow with glee, 

As around that rompingplace 

At a terrifying pace 

Lungeth, plungeth he! 

And that hero seems to be 

All unconscious of our cheers  

Only one dear voice he hears 

Calling reassuringly: 

"AllAloney!" 

Though his legs bend with their load, 

Though his feet they seem so small 


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That you cannot help forebode 

Some disastrous episode 

In that noisy hall, 

Neither threatening bump nor fall 

Little AllAloney fears, 

But with sweet bravado steers 

Whither comes that cheery call: 

"AllAloney!" 

Ah, that in the years to come, 

When he shares of Sorrow's store,  

When his feet are chill and numb, 

When his cross is burdensome, 

And his heart is sore: 

Would that he could hear once more 

The gentle voice he used to hear  

Divine with mother love and cheer  

Calling from yonder spirit shore: 

"All, all alone!" 

SEEIN' THINGS

I ain't afeard uv snakes, or toads, or bugs, or worms, or mice, 

An' things 'at girls are skeered uv I think are awful nice! 

I'm pretty brave, I guess; an' yet I hate to go to bed, 

For, when I'm tucked up warm an' snug an' when my prayers are said, 

Mother tells me "Happy dreams!" and takes away the light, 

An' leaves me lyin' all alone an' seein' things at night! 

Sometimes they're in the corner, sometimes they're by the door, 

Sometimes they're all astandin' in the middle uv the floor; 

Sometimes they are asittin' down, sometimes they're walkin' round 

So softly an' so creepylike they never make a sound! 

Sometimes they are as black as ink, an' other times they're white  

But the color ain't no difference when you see things at night! 

Once, when I licked a feller 'at had just moved on our street, 

An' father sent me up to bed without a bite to eat, 

I woke up in the dark an' saw things standin' in a row, 

Alookin' at me crosseyed an' p'intin' at me  so! 

Oh, my! I wuz so skeered that time I never slep' a mite  

It's almost alluz when I'm bad I see things at night! 

Lucky thing I ain't a girl, or I'd be skeered to death! 

Bein' I'm a boy, I duck my head an' hold my breath; 

An' I am, oh! so sorry I'm a naughty boy, an' then 


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I promise to be better an' I say my prayers again! 

Gran'ma tells me that's the only way to make it right 

When a feller has been wicked an' sees things at night! 

An' so, when other naughty boys would coax me into sin, 

I try to skwush the Tempter's voice 'at urges me within; 

An' when they's pie for supper, or cakes 'at 's big an' nice, 

I want to  but I do not pass my plate f'r them things twice! 

No, ruther let Starvation wipe me slowly out o' sight 

Than I should keep alivin' on an' seein' things at night! 

THE CUNNIN' LITTLE THING

When baby wakes of mornings, 

Then it's wake, ye people all! 

For another day 

Of song and play 

Has come at our darling's call! 

And, till she gets her dinner, 

She makes the welkin ring, 

And she won't keep still till she's had her fill  

The cunnin' little thing! 

When baby goes awalking, 

Oh, how her paddies fly! 

For that's the way 

The babies say 

To other folk "byby"; 

The trees bend down to kiss her, 

And the birds in rapture sing, 

As there she stands and waves her hands  

The cunnin' little thing! 

When baby goes arocking 

In her bed at close of day, 

At hideandseek 

On her dainty cheek 

The dreams and the dimples play; 

Then it's sleep in the tender kisses 

The guardian angels bring 

From the Far Above to my sweetest love  

You cunnin' little thing! 


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THE DOLL'S WOOING

The little French doll was a dear little doll 

Tricked out in the sweetest of dresses; 

Her eyes were of hue 

A most delicate blue 

And dark as the night were her tresses; 

Her dear little mouth was fluted and red, 

And this little French doll was so very well bred 

That whenever accosted her little mouth said 

"Mamma! mamma!" 

The stockinet doll, with one arm and one leg, 

Had once been a handsome young fellow; 

But now he appeared 

Rather frowzy and bleared 

In his torn regimentals of yellow; 

Yet his heart gave a curious thump as he lay 

In the little toy cart near the window one day 

And heard the sweet voice of that French dolly say: 

"Mamma! mamma!" 

He listened so long and he listened so hard 

That anon he grew ever so tender, 

For it's everywhere known 

That the feminine tone 

Gets away with all masculine gender! 

He up and he wooed her with soldierly zest 

But all she'd reply to the love he professed 

Were these plaintive words (which perhaps you have guessed): 

"Mamma! mamma!" 

Her mother  a sweet little lady of five  

Vouchsafed her parental protection, 

And although stockinet 

Wasn't blueblooded, yet 

She really could make no objection! 

So soldier and dolly were wedded one day, 

And a moment ago, as I journeyed that way, 

I'm sure that I heard a wee baby voice say: 

"Mamma! mamma!" 


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Page No 41


INSCRIPTION FOR MY LITTLE SON'S SILVER PLATE

When thou dost eat from off this plate, 

I charge thee be thou temperate; 

Unto thine elders at the board 

Do thou sweet reverence accord; 

And, though to dignity inclined, 

Unto the servingfolk be kind; 

Be ever mindful of the poor, 

Nor turn them hungry from the door; 

And unto God, for health and food 

And all that in thy life is good, 

Give thou thy heart in gratitude. 

FISHERMAN JIM'S KIDS

Fisherman Jim lived on the hill 

With his bonnie wife an' his little boys; 

'T wuz "Blow, ye winds, as blow ye will  

Naught we reck of your cold and noise!" 

For happy and warm were he an' his, 

And he dandled his kids upon his knee 

To the song of the sea. 

Fisherman Jim would sail all day, 

But, when come night, upon the sands 

His little kids ran from their play, 

Callin' to him an' wavin' their hands; 

Though the wind was fresh and the sea was high, 

He'd hear'em  you bet  above the roar 

Of the waves on the shore! 

Once Fisherman Jim sailed into the bay 

As the sun went down in a cloudy sky, 

And never a kid saw he at play, 

And he listened in vain for the welcoming cry. 

In his little house he learned it all, 

And he clinched his hands and he bowed his head  

"The fever!" they said. 

'T wuz a pitiful time for Fisherman Jim, 

With them darlin's adyin' afore his eyes, 

Astretchin' their wee hands out to him 


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An' abreakin' his heart with the oldtime cries 

He had heerd so often upon the sands; 

For they thought they wuz helpin' his boat ashore  

Till they spoke no more. 

But Fisherman Jim lived on and on, 

Castin' his nets an' sailin' the sea; 

As a man will live when his heart is gone, 

Fisherman Jim lived hopelessly, 

Till once in those years they come an' said: 

"Old Fisherman Jim is powerful sick  

Go to him, quick!" 

Then Fisherman Jim says he to me: 

"It's a long, long cruiseyou understand  

But over beyont the ragin' sea 

I kin see my boys on the shinin' sand 

Waitin' to help this ol' hulk ashore, 

Just as they used to  ah, mate, you know!  

In the long ago." 

No, sir! he wuzn't afeard to die; 

For all night long he seemed to see 

His little boys of the days gone by, 

An' to hear sweet voices forgot by me! 

An' just as the mornin' sun come up  

"They're holdin' me by the hands!" he cried, 

An' so he died. 

"FIDDLEDEEDEE"

There once was a bird that lived up in a tree, 

And all he could whistle was "Fiddledeedee"  

A very provoking, unmusical song 

For one to be whistling the summer day long! 

Yet always contented and busy was he 

With that vocal recurrence of "Fiddledeedee." 

Hard by lived a brave little soldier of four, 

That weird iteration repented him sore; 

"I prithee, DearMotherMine! fetch me my gun, 

For, by our St. Didy! the deed must be done 

That shall presently rid all creation and me 

Of that ominous bird and his 'Fiddledeedee'!" 

Then out came DearMotherMine, bringing her son 


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His awfully truculent little red gun; 

The stock was of pine and the barrel of tin, 

The "bang" it came out where the bullet went in  

The right kind of weapon I think you'll agree 

For slaying all fowl that go "Fiddledeedee"! 

The brave little soldier quoth never a word, 

But he up and he drew a straight bead on that bird; 

And, while that vain creature provokingly sang, 

The gun it went off with a terrible bang! 

Then loud laughed the youth  "By my Bottle," cried he, 

I've put a quietus on 'Fiddledeedee'!" 

Out came then DearMotherMine, saying: "My son, 

Right well have you wrought with your little red gun! 

Hereafter no evil at all need I fear, 

With such a brave soldier as YouMyLove here!" 

She kissed the dear boy. 

(The bird in the tree 

Continued to whistle his "Fiddledeedee") 

OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY

Over the hills and far away, 

A little boy steals from his morning play 

And under the blossoming appletree 

He lies and he dreams of the things to be: 

Of battles fought and of victories won, 

Of wrongs o'erthrown and of great deeds done  

Of the valor that he shall prove some day, 

Over the hills and far away  

Over the hills, and far away! 

Over the hills and far away 

It's, oh, for the toil the livelong day! 

But it mattereth not to the soul aflame 

With a love for riches and power and fame! 

On, 0 man! while the sun is high  

On to the certain joys that lie 

Yonder where blazeth the noon of day, 

Over the hills and far away  

Over the hills, and far away! 

Over the hills and far away, 

An old man lingers at close of day; 

Now that his journey is almost done, 


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His battles fought and his victories won  

The oldtime honesty and truth, 

The trustfulness and the friends of youth, 

Home and motherwhere are they? 

Over the hills and far away  

Over the years, and far away! 


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Bookmarks



1. Table of Contents, page = 3

2. Love-Songs of Childhood, page = 4

   3. Eugene Field, page = 4

   4. THE ROCK-A-BY LADY, page = 5

   5. "BOOH!", page = 6

   6. GARDEN AND CRADLE, page = 6

   7. THE NIGHT WIND, page = 7

   8. KISSING TIME, page = 8

   9. JEST 'FORE CHRISTMAS, page = 9

   10. BEARD AND BABY, page = 10

   11. THE DINKEY BIRD, page = 10

   12. THE DRUM, page = 12

   13. THE DEAD BABE, page = 13

   14. THE HAPPY HOUSEHOLD, page = 14

   15. SO, SO, ROCK-A-BY SO!, page = 15

   16. THE SONG OF LUDDY-DUD, page = 15

   17. THE DUEL, page = 16

   18. GOOD-CHILDREN STREET, page = 17

   19. THE DELECTABLE BALLAD OF THE WALLER LOT, page = 18

   20. THE STORK, page = 22

   21. THE BOTTLE TREE, page = 23

   22. GOOGLY-GOO, page = 23

   23. THE BENCH-LEGGED FYCE, page = 24

   24. LITTLE MISS BRAG, page = 26

   25. THE HUMMING TOP, page = 27

   26. LADY BUTTON-EYES, page = 28

   27. THE RIDE TO BUMPVILLE, page = 29

   28. THE BROOK, page = 30

   29. PICNIC-TIME, page = 30

   30. SHUFFLE-SHOON AND AMBER-LOCKS, page = 31

   31. THE SHUT-EYE TRAIN, page = 32

   32. LITTLE-OH DEAR, page = 33

   33. THE FLY-AWAY HORSE, page = 34

   34. SWING HIGH AND SWING LOW, page = 35

   35. WHEN I WAS A BOY, page = 36

   36. AT PLAY, page = 37

   37. A VALENTINE, page = 37

   38. LITTLE ALL-ALONEY, page = 38

   39. SEEIN' THINGS, page = 39

   40. THE CUNNIN' LITTLE THING, page = 40

   41. THE DOLL'S WOOING, page = 41

   42. INSCRIPTION FOR MY LITTLE SON'S SILVER PLATE, page = 42

   43. FISHERMAN JIM'S KIDS, page = 42

   44. "FIDDLE-DEE-DEE", page = 43

   45. OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY, page = 44