The Old Hay
The Old Hay-mow’s the place to play
Fer boys, when it’s a rainy day!
I good-'eal ruther be up there
Than down in town, er anywhere!
When I play in our stable-loft,
The good old hay’s so dry an’ soft,
An’ feels so fine, an’ smells so sweet,
I 'most ferget to go an’ eat.
An’ one time wunst I _did_ ferget
To go 'tel dinner was all et,—
An’ they had short-cake—an’—Bud he
Hogged up the piece Ma saved fer me!
Nen I won’t let him play no more
In our hay-mow where I keep store
An’ got hen-eggs to sell,—an’ shoo
The cackle-un old hen out, too!
An’ nen, when Aunty she was here
A-visitun from Rensselaer,
An’ bringed my little cousin,—_he_
Can come up there an’ play with me.
But, after while—when Bud he bets
'At I can’t turn no summersetts,—
I let him come up, ef he can
Ac’ ha’f-way like a gentleman!
