 | A little book of tribune verse |  |
53
COLIC.
Baby and I in the weary night
Are taking a walk for his delight;
I drowsily stumble o'er stool and chair
And clasp the babe with a grim despair,
For he's got the colic
And paregoric
Don't seem to ease my squalling heir.
Are taking a walk for his delight;
I drowsily stumble o'er stool and chair
And clasp the babe with a grim despair,
For he's got the colic
And paregoric
Don't seem to ease my squalling heir.
Baby and I with the morning grey,
Are griping and squalling and walking away;
The fire's gone out and I nearly freeze;
There's a smell of peppermint on the breeze;
Then Mamma wakes
And baby takes
And says, “Now cook the breakfast, please!”
Are griping and squalling and walking away;
The fire's gone out and I nearly freeze;
There's a smell of peppermint on the breeze;
Then Mamma wakes
And baby takes
And says, “Now cook the breakfast, please!”
November 21st, 1881.
| A little book of tribune verse | |