 | A gift book of stories and poems for children |  |
96
THE BOY IS COLD.
I think I might get near the grate,
My toes they grow colder and colder;
I am sure I wish, early and late,
That I could be bigger and older.
My toes they grow colder and colder;
I am sure I wish, early and late,
That I could be bigger and older.
There's grandma' stowed close by the fire,
And she's managed to squeeze in my brother;
Aunt Polly has got her desire,
And sits like a toast next to mother.
And she's managed to squeeze in my brother;
Aunt Polly has got her desire,
And sits like a toast next to mother.
My teeth they all shake in my head,
And my hands are like skim'd milk so blue;
And my feet feel as if they were dead,
And I'm sure I can't tell what to do.
And my hands are like skim'd milk so blue;
And my feet feel as if they were dead,
And I'm sure I can't tell what to do.
97
I have tried once or twice to go near,
And they cry out “Oh don't be a baby,
Run about and you'll warm yourself, dear;”
They think I've no feeling then, may be.
And they cry out “Oh don't be a baby,
Run about and you'll warm yourself, dear;”
They think I've no feeling then, may be.
I just wish that from now till to-morrow
They and I could change fingers and toes,
And then they'd find out to their sorrow,
How a fellow must feel when he's froze.
They and I could change fingers and toes,
And then they'd find out to their sorrow,
How a fellow must feel when he's froze.
| A gift book of stories and poems for children | |