BY CARRIE WILLIAMS
Nowadays girls go to cooking-school
And learn to cook just so by rule;
But all I know, I’m glad to say,
My mother taught me day by day.
She did not need a great cook-book;
She knew how much and what it took
To make things good and sweet and light.
What Mother does is always right.
WHO IS IT?
BY ETHEL M. KELLEY
Whose hair is all curly, an’ eyes “baby-blue”?
Who wakes up too early ’fore night-time is fru?
Who dresses her pillow all up in the clo’es,
An’ counts all her piggies when nobody knows?
An’ who’s des’ as quiet as quiet can be?
Muvver says—me.
Who w’ites wif a pencil all over a book?
An’ who gets the ink when nobody does look?
An’ who gets her fingies all blacker than black?
An’ who gets ’em spatted when Muvver comes back?
An’ who’s des’ as sorry as sorry can be?
Muvver says—me.
Who goes down to dinner on Sundays at two,
All dressed in w’ite frillies, an’ tied up in blue?
An’ who waits for Father to cut up her meat,
When she is so hungry an’ nuffin’ to eat?
An’ who’s des’ as “patient” as “patient” can be?
Muvver says—me.