And—‘What am I telling you this for?’ Why, Papa, my neighbor is dead!
“You don’t hear one half I am saying—I really do think it’s too bad!
Why, you might have seen crape on her door-knob, and noticed to-day I’ve been sad;
And they’ve got her a coffin of rosewood, and they say they have dressed her in white,
And I’ve never once looked through the fence, Pa, since she died—at eleven last night.
“And Ma says its decent and proper, as I was her neighbor and friend,
That I should go there to the funeral, and she thinks that you ought to attend;
But I am so clumsy and awkward, I know I shall be in the way,
And suppose they should speak to me, Papa, I wouldn’t know just what to say.
“So I think I will get up quite early, I know I sleep late, but I know