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For the Dinkey-Bird's bravuras
And staccatos are so sweet-
His roulades, appoggiaturas,
And robustos so complete,
That the youth of every nation-
Be they near or far away—
Have especial delectation

In that gladsome roundelay.

Their eyes grow bright and brighter,
Their lungs begin to crow,
Their hearts get light and lighter,
And their cheeks are all aglow;
For an echo cometh bringing
The news to all and me,
That the Dinkey-Bird is singing
In the amfalula tree.

I'm sure you like to go there
To see your feathered friend-
And so many goodies grow there
You would like to comprehend!
Speed, little dreams, your winging
To that land across the sea,
Where the Dinkey-Bird is singing
In the amfalula tree!

THE DRUM

I'm a beautiful red, red drum,
And I train with the soldier boys;

As up the street we come,

Wonderful is our noise!

There's Tom, and Jim, and Phil, And Dick, and Nat, and Fred,

While Widow Cutler's Bill

And I march on ahead,

THE DRUM

With a r-r-rat-tat-tat

And a tum-titty-um-tum-tumOh, there's bushels of fun in that For boys with a little red drum!

The Injuns came last night

While the soldiers were abed,
And they gobbled a Chinese kite
And off to the woods they fled!
The woods are the cherry-trees
Down in the orchard lot,

And the soldiers are marching to seize
The booty the Injuns got.
With tum-titty-um-tum-tum,
And r-r-rat-tat-tat,
When soldiers marching come
Injuns had better scat!

Step up there, little Fred,

And, Charley, have a mind! Jim is as far ahead

As you two are behind! Ready with gun and sword Your valorous work to do

Yonder the Injun horde

Are lying in wait for you.

And their hearts go pitapat

When they hear the soldiers come

With a r-r-rat-tat-tat

And a tum-titty-um-tum-tum!

Course it's all in play!

The skulking Injun crew
That hustled the kite away
Are little white boys, like you!
But "honest" or "just in fun,"
It is all the same to me;
And, when the battle is won,
Home once again march we

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With a r-r-rat-tat-tat

And tum-titty-um-tum-tum; And there's glory enough in that For the boys with their little red drum!

THE DEAD BABE

LAST night, as my dear babe lay dead,
In agony I knelt and said:

"O God! what have I done,

Or in what wise offended Thee,
That thou shouldst take awa- from me
My little son?

"Upon the thousand useless lives, Upon the guilt that vaunting thrives, Thy wrath were better spent!

Why shouldst Thou take my little sonWhy shouldst Thou vent Thy wrath upon This innocent?"

Last night, as my dear babe lay dead,
Before mine eyes the vision spread

Of things that might have been:

Licentious riot, cruel strife,
Forgotten prayers, a wasted life
Dark-red with sin!

Then, with sweet music in the air,
I saw another vision there:

A Shepherd in whose keep

A little lamb-my little child!

Of worldly wisdom undefiled,
Lay fast asleep!

Last night, as my dear babe lay dead,
In those two messages I read

THE HAPPY HOUSEHOLD

A wisdom manifest;

And though my arms be childless now,
I am content-to Him I bow

Who knoweth best.

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THE HAPPY HOUSEHOLD

It's when the birds go piping and the daylight slowly breaks,
That, clamoring for his dinner, our precious baby wakes;
Then it's sleep no more for baby, and it's sleep no more for me,
For, when he wants his dinner, why it 's dinner it must be!
And of that lacteal fluid he partakes with great ado,

While gran'ma laughs,
And gran'pa laughs,
And wife, she laughs,

And I—well, I laugh, too!

You'd think, to see us carrying on about that little tad,
That, like as not, that baby was the first we'd ever had;
But, sakes alive! he is n't, yet we people make a fuss
As if the only baby in the world had come to us!
And, morning, noon, and night-time, whatever he may do,
Gran'ma, she laughs,

Gran'pa, he laughs,
Wife, she laughs,

And I, of course, laugh, too!

But once a likely spell ago-when that poor little chick
From teething or from some such ill of infancy fell sick,
You would n't know us people as the same that went about
A-feelin' good all over, just to hear him crow and shout;

And, though the doctor poohed our fears and said he'd pull him through,

Old gran'ma cried,

And gran'pa cried,

And wife, she cried,

And I-yes, I cried, too!

It makes us all feel good to have a baby on the place,
With his everlastin' crowing and his dimpling, dumpling face;
The patter of his pinky feet makes music everywhere,

And when he shakes those fists of his, good-by to every care!
No matter what our trouble is, when he begins to coo,

Old gran'ma laughs,

And gran'pa laughs,
Wife, she laughs,

And I-you bet, I laugh, too!

SO, SO, ROCK-A-BY SO!

So, so, rock-a-by so!

Off to the garden where dreamikins grow;
And here is a kiss on your winkyblink eyes,

And here is a kiss on your dimpledown cheek,
And here is a kiss for the treasure that lies
In the beautiful garden 'way up in the skies
Which you seek.

Now mind these three kisses wherever you go—
So, so, rock-a-by so!

There's one little fumfay who lives there, I know,
For he dances all night where the dreamikins grow
I send him this kiss on your droopydrop eyes,

I send him this kiss on your rosyred cheek.
And here is a kiss for the dream that shall rise
When the fumfay shall dance in those far-away skies
Which you seek.

Be sure that you pay those three kisses you owe-
So, so, rock-a-by so!

And, by-low, as you rock-a-by go,

Don't forget mother who loveth you so!

And here is her kiss on your weepydeep eyes,

And here is her kiss on your peachypink cheek,

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