’En after w’ile he took it out
An’ held it up w’ere he could see,
An’ ’en he says, “H-m-m! ’Ist about
Too high a half of a degree.”
An’ ’en Ma asked him if I’m bad
An’ he says “Nope!” ’ist gruff an’ cross
’An says “W’y you can’t kill a lad,
An’ if you do it ain’t much loss!”
An’ ’en she’s mad an’ he ’ist bust
Out laughin’ an’ he says, “Don’t fret,
He’s goin’ t’ be all right, I trust.
W’y he ain’t even half dead yet.”
An’ ’en he felt my pulse, ’at way,
An’ patted me upon my head
An’ says “There ain’t no school today,
’Cuz one of th’ trustees is dead!”
A MODERN MIRACLE
AN’ my, I’m awful sorry w’en
He told me that. An’ ’en he said
“He’ll be all right by noon.” An’ ’en
He went away. An’ Ma says “Ned,
How do you feel?” An’ ’en, you know,
Since Doctor told me that, somehow,
I’m awful sick a while ago,
But, my! I’m almost well right now!
NERVOUSTOWN
OH, there’s never a noise in Nervoustown;
Not the cry of a youngster; and up or down
There’s never a cheer or a whistle shrill;
Just silence, like that of the grave, so still;
The horses trot with a muffled tread,
But the place seems lonesome and drear and dead,
For a cloth-bound head and a nervous frown
Are all you may see in Nervoustown.
Sh-h! you must walk with noiseless tread
For there’s many a hot and aching head;
The doors are closed and the blinds are down,
For it must be dark in Nervoustown.
And you mustn’t whistle or shout or cheer
Or slam the doors! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!
Lest a cloth-bound head and a terrible frown
Poke out at you from Nervoustown.