I rather dess, I really do, from how he pulls my turls,
Zey all was made a-purpose for to ’noy us little dirls;
An’ I wish zere wasn’t no such zing as naughty baby boys
Why—why, zat’s him a-kyin’ now; he makes a drefful noise,
I dess I better run and see, for if he has—boo-hoo!—
Felled down ze stairs and killed his-self, whatever s-s-s’all I do!
THE SQUIRREL’S LESSON.
Two little squirrels, out in the sun,