Buster Boy
The Jumbler, like Foss, loses a boy.
I have a friend called "Buster"—
A little child last Fall—
But now he's grown so very big
I scarce know him at all.
Almost a man! His folks are proud
And fairly beam with joy;
But I—I feel I'd rather cry;
For I—I've lost my boy.
No more he'll perch upon my knee
And ask me to relate
How Li Chi Fair and Chang-the-Good
Were saved from saddest fate.
And Jelly Jar and Big Black Bear
He'll treat with sneering scorn
And say, "Now please do stop and think
How long since I was born."
Time flies so fast it takes my breath!
Soon he'll forget it all—
The rhymes we wrote, the games we played,
None, none will he recall.
The world may praise him as a MAN—
God knows I wish him joy—
But I—I'll brush away a tear
And long for Buster Boy.
