1 You better not fool with a… 2 Ef you don’t think they can… 3 They’re lazy to look at, an’… 4 Buzzin’ an’ bummin’ aroun’ s… 5 An’ ac’ so slouchy an’ all f…

John McKeen, in his rusty dress, His loosened collar, and swarthy t… His face unshaven, and none the le… His hearty laugh and his wholesome… And the wealth of a workman’s vote…

Gracie wuz allus a _careless_ tot; But Gracie dearly loved her doll, An’ played wiv it on the winder-si… 'Way up-stairs, when she ought to… An’ her muvver _telled_ her so an’…

No song is mine of Arab steed— My courser is of nobler blood, And cleaner limb and fleeter speed… And greater strength and hardihood Than ever cantered wild and free

Queenly month of indolent repose! I drink thy breath in sips of rare… As in thy downy lap of clover-bloo… I nestle like a drowsy child and d… The lazy hours away. The zephyr t…

'Write me a rhyme of the present t… And the poet took his pen And wrote such lines as the miser… Hide in the hearts of men. He grew enthused, as the poets use…

Thou Poet, who, like any lark, Dost whet thy beak and trill From misty morn till murky dark, Nor ever pipe thy fill: Hast thou not, in thy cheery note,

Ho! green fields and running brook… Knotted strings and fishing-hooks Of the truant, stealing down Weedy backways of the town. Where the sunshine overlooks,

Let us rest ourselves a bit! Worry?—wave your hand to it— Kiss your finger-tips and smile It farewell a little while. Weary of the weary way

Out of the hitherwhere into the Y… The land that the Lord’s love res… Where one may rely on the friends… And the smiles that greet him alon… Where the mother that left you yea…

Parunts knows lots more than us, But they don’t know _all_ things,— ‘Cause we ketch ’em, lots o’ times… Even on little small things. One time Winnie ask’ her Ma,

Who shall sing a simple ditty abou… Dainty-fine and delicate as any be… That dandles high the dainty bird… Tremulously tender song of greetin… Bravest, too, of all the trees!—no…

The world is turned ag’in’ me, And people says, 'They guess That nothin’ else is in me But pure maliciousness!' I git the blame for doin’

‘Twas a Funny Little Fellow Of the very purest type, For he had a heart as mellow As an apple over ripe; And the brightest little twinkle

Heigh-ho! Babyhood! Tell me where… Let’s toddle home again, for we ha… Take this eager hand of mine and l… Back to the Lotus lands of the fa… Turn back the leaves of life; don’…