THE NOBLE OLD ELM

O big old tree, so tall an' fine,

Where all us childern swings an' plays,

Though neighbers says you're on the line

Between Pa's house an' Mr. Gray's,—

Us childern used to almost fuss,

Old Tree, about you when we 'd play.—

We'd argy you belonged to us,

An' them Gray-kids the other way!

Till Elsie, one time she wuz here

An' playin' wiv us—Don't you mind,

Old Mister Tree?—an' purty near

She scolded us the hardest kind

Fer quar'llin' 'bout you thataway,

An' say she'll find—ef we'll keep still—

Whose tree you air fer shore, she say,

An' settle it fer good, she will!

"The old tree says he's all our tree."

So all keep still: An' nen she gone

An' pat the Old Tree, an' says she,—

"Whose air you, Tree?" an' nen let on

Like she's a-list'nin' to the Tree,—

An' nen she say, "It's settled,—'cause

The Old Tree says he's all our tree—

His trunk belongs to bofe your Pas,

But shade belongs to you an' me."