Page 97—Drawing Land
|
The New Slate See my slate. I dot it new Cos I b'oke the other, Put my 'ittle foot right froo, Runnin' after modder. I tan make you lots of sings, Fass as you tan tell 'em, T's and B's and O rings, Only I tan't spell 'em I tan make an elephant, Wid his trunk a hangin'; An' a boy—who says I tan't? Wid his dun a bangin' An' the smoke a tummin' out; (Wid my t'umb I do it, Rubbin' all the white about,) Sparks a flying froo it. I tan make a pretty house, Wid a tree behind it, And a 'ittle mousey-mouse Runnin' round to find it. I tan put my hand out flat On the slate and draw it; (Ticklin' is the worst of that!) Did you ever saw it? Now, then, s'all I make a tree Wid a birdie on it? All my pictures you s'all see If you'll wait a minute. No, I dess I'll make a man Juss like Uncle Rolly, See it tummin', fass it tan! Bet my slate is jolly! |
[Previous] - [Index] - [Next]