BY FRANK L. STANTON
Mother—she's always a-sayin', she is,
Boys must be looked after—got to be strict;
When I tear my breeches like Billy tears his,
It helps 'em considerable when I am licked!
But it ain't leapin' over the fence or the post—
It's jest that same lickin' 'at tears 'em the most!
Mother—she's always a-sayin' to me,
Boys must have people to foller 'em roun';
Never kin tell where they're goin' to be;
Sure to git lost, an' then have to be foun'.
An' then—when they find 'em, they're so full of joy
They can't keep from lovin' an' lickin' the boy!
There's Jimmy Johnson—got lost on the road;
Daddy wuz drivin' to market one day,
Fell out the wagon, an' nobody knowed
Till they come to a halt, an' his daddy said: "Hey!
Wonder where Jimmy is gone to?" But Jim—
Warn't no two hosses could keep up with him!
Jest kept a-goin', an' got to a place
Where wuz a circus; took up with the clown,
Cut off his ringlets and painted his face,
An' then come right back to his daddy's own town!
An' what do you reckon? His folks didn't know,
An' paid to see Jimmy that night in the show!
An' there's Billy Jenkins—he jest run away
(Folks at his house wuzn't treatin' him right);
Went to the place where the red Injuns stay;
An' once, when his daddy wuz travelin' at night
An' the Injuns took after him, hollerin' loud,
Bill run to his rescue, an' scalped the whole crowd!
No use in talkin'—boys don't have no show!
Wuzn't fer people a-follerin' 'em roun',
Jest ain't no tellin' how fast they would grow;
Bet you they'd fool everybody in town!
But mother—she says they need lickin', an' so
They're too busy hollerin' to git up an' grow!