Complete Poetical Works

And I've heard her REPEATEDLY call you the bold-facest boy that she
knew;
And she'd "like to know where you learnt manners."  Oh yes!  Kick
the table,—that's right!
Spill the ink on my dress, and go then round telling Ma that I look
like a fright!

What stories?  Pretend you don't know that they're saying I broke
off the match
Twixt old Money-grubber and Mary, by saying she called him
"Crosspatch,"
When the only allusion I made him about sister Mary was, she
Cared more for his cash than his temper, and you know, Jack, you
said that to me.

And it's true!  But it's ME, and I'm scolded, and Pa says if I keep
on I might
By and by get my name in the papers!  Who cares?  Why, 'twas only
last night
I was reading how Pa and the sheriff were selling some lots, and
it's plain
If it's awful to be in the papers, why, Papa would go and complain.

You think it ain't true about Ilsey?  Well, I guess I know girls,
and I say
There's nothing I see about Ilsey to show she likes you, anyway!
I know what it means when a girl who has called her cat after one
boy
Goes and changes its name to another's.  And she's done it—and I
wish you joy!

MISS EDITH MAKES ANOTHER FRIEND

Oh, you're the girl lives on the corner?  Come in—if you want to—
come quick!
There's no one but me in the house, and the cook—but she's only a
stick.
Don't try the front way, but come over the fence—through the
window—that's how.
Don't mind the big dog—he won't bite you—just see him obey me!
there, now!

What's your name?  Mary Ellen?  How funny!  Mine's Edith—it's
nicer, you see;
But yours does for you, for you're plainer, though maybe you're
gooder than me;
For Jack says I'm sometimes a devil, but Jack, of all folks, needn't
talk,
For I don't call the seamstress an angel till Ma says the poor thing
must "walk."

Come in!  It's quite dark in the parlor, for sister will keep the
blinds down,
For you know her complexion is sallow like yours, but she isn't as
brown;
Though Jack says that isn't the reason she likes to sit here with
Jim Moore.
Do you think that he meant that she kissed him?  Would you—if your
lips wasn't sore?

If you like, you can try our piano.  'Tain't ours.  A man left it
here
To rent by the month, although Ma says he hasn't been paid for a
year.
Sister plays—oh, such fine variations!—why, I once heard a
gentleman say
That she didn't mind THAT for the music—in fact, it was just in her
way!

Ain't I funny?  And yet it's the queerest of all that, whatever I
say,
One half of the folks die a-laughing, and the rest, they all look
t'other way.
And some say, "That child!"  Do they ever say that to such people as
you?
Though maybe you're naturally silly, and that makes your eyes so
askew.

Now stop—don't you dare to be crying!  Just as sure as you live, if
you do,
I'll call in my big dog to bite you, and I'll make my Papa kill you,
too!
And then where'll you be?  So play pretty.  There's my doll, and a
nice piece of cake.
You don't want it—you think it is poison!  Then I'LL eat it, dear,
just for your sake!

WHAT MISS EDITH SAW FROM HER WINDOW

Our window's not much, though it fronts on the street;
There's a fly in the pane that gets nothin' to eat;
But it's curious how people think it's a treat
For ME to look out of the window!

Why, when company comes, and they're all speaking low,
With their chairs drawn together, then some one says, "Oh!
Edith dear!—that's a good child—now run, love, and go
And amuse yourself there at the window!"

Or Bob—that's my brother—comes in with his chum,