THE TRIALS OF TRAVEL
Boohoo, boohoo, boohoo, boohoo!
My mother says I can't take Sue
And Grace and Maud and Clarabel
And Ruth and Beth and sweet Estelle,
Unless I pack them with our things.
Oh dear! oh dear! my heart it wrings
To put them in that hot, dark place,
With paper wrapped around each face.
I'm sure they all would suffocate
Or meet some other dreadful fate.
I'd gladly take them on my arm
And keep them safe from every harm,
But mother says that that won't do;
She draws the line at more than two.
I'd like to know what she would say
To sending me packed in a tray.
REBECCA DEMING MOORE.