Pa never gets a story straight.
He's always mixed about the date,
Or where it was, or what occurred,
Or who related what he heard;
And every time he starts to tell
Some little story he knows well,
Ma says: "No, Pa, as I recall,
That isn't how it was at all."
"Remember when I broke my arm,"
Says Pa, "when we were on the farm
And I went out that slippery morn
A few days after Bud was born,
To get some wood"—and Ma says then:
"Oh, Pa, don't tell that tale again!
And anyhow, I know right well
Bud wasn't born the day you fell."
"'Twas months before he came," says Ma.
"'Twas after he was born," says Pa;
"I rather think I ought to know
Just when it was I suffered so."
"Maybe you ought," says Ma, "but still,
I saw you tumble down the hill,
And it was March with snow drifts high—
Bud wasn't born till next July."
"I'd walk him round the floor," says Pa.
"You're all mixed up again," says Ma.
"We'll ask Aunt Lizzie, she was there,
She'd come to help." Says Ma: "I swear
You're just as crazy as a loon,
Aunt Lizzie didn't come till June.
To argue on is most absurd,
Bud wasn't born when that occurred."
I wish I knew just what is what
Or whether I was born or not,
But I'll just have to sit and wait
Until Pa gets his story straight;
And I have never heard at all
Just how it was he chanced to fall,
For Pa and Ma can't yet agree
Which one came first—the fall or me.
The Spirit of the Home
Dishes to wash and clothes to mend,
And always another meal to plan,
Never the tasks of a mother end
And oh, so early her day began!
Floors to sweep and the pies to bake,
And chairs to dust and the beds to make.
Oh, the home is fair when you come at night
And the meal is good and the children gay,
And the kettle sings in its glad delight
And the mother smiles in her gentle way;
So great her love that you seldom see
Or catch a hint of the drudgery.
Home, you say, when the day is done,
Home to comfort and peace and rest;
Home, where the children romp and run—
There is the place that you love the best!
Yet what would the home be like if you
Had all of its endless tasks to do?