'LIZABETH ANN'S PICTURE
Ma wanted a good, new picture of me; so pa says, "'Lizabeth Ann,
You come down town at noon to-day, and we'll go to the picture man;
But don't tell mother—we'll have a surprise for her on Christmas day,
And give her a real nice photograft—I know just what she will say."
"Oh, goody!" I says, "I am awful glad! I'll be there at noon, you see."
(I like to have a secret with pa—it's awful much fun for me.)
I runned away at 'leven o'clock, and ma didn't see me go,
Although I had dressed in my very best—and that takes time, you know—
My party frock, and my best kid shoes; my furs and my "picture" hat,
And my new red coat—the one she says, "Be careful, my dear, of that."
And when I got to his office, pa looked awful surprised, and said,
"Dear me, what a dressed-up little girl! Why, really, you turn my head!"
And then we went to the picture man. He's nice enough, I s'pose,
But what do you think he said to me? "You seem to be mostly clothes!"
So pa and the man made me undress, till all that I had on me
Was my shirtwaist slip—my arms and neck was bare as they both could be!
It made me feel umbarrassed! And then I guess that I nearly cried,
But pa just patted me on the head and said he was satisfied.
And now the pictures are finished up, and one is already framed;
But ma'll be mad, I am pretty sure—I know that I feel ashamed;
For all that you see is my head and neck—and not a bit of my dress—
She'll think I was funny to go down-town with so little on, I guess!
Yet pa says, "Never you mind, my dear—blame it on me or the man;
But mother will like it, you see if she don't—she wanted you, 'Lizabeth Ann."