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U. S. SPELLS US.
MY papa's all dressed up to-day;
He never looked so fine;
I thought when I first looked at him
My papa wasn't mine.
He never looked so fine;
I thought when I first looked at him
My papa wasn't mine.
He's got a beautiful new suit
The old one was so old—
It's blue, with buttons, oh, so bright,
I guess they must be gold.
The old one was so old—
It's blue, with buttons, oh, so bright,
I guess they must be gold.
And papa's sort o' glad and sort
O' sad—I wonder why;
And ev'ry time she looks at him
It makes my mamma cry.
O' sad—I wonder why;
And ev'ry time she looks at him
It makes my mamma cry.
Who's Uncle Sam? My papa says
That he belongs to him;
But papa's joking, 'cause he knows
My uncle's name is Jim.
That he belongs to him;
But papa's joking, 'cause he knows
My uncle's name is Jim.
My papa just belongs to me
And mamma. And I guess
The folks are blind who cannot see
His buttons marked U. S.
And mamma. And I guess
The folks are blind who cannot see
His buttons marked U. S.
U. S. spells Us. He's ours—and yet
My mamma can't help cry,
And papa tries to smile at me
And can't—I wonder why.
My mamma can't help cry,
And papa tries to smile at me
And can't—I wonder why.
ANON.
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