Used to study late at night, Learnin' how to read an' write; When he played a baseball game, Right away he always came When his mother called him in.

An' he never made a din But was quiet as a mouse When they'd comp'ny in the house.

Liked to wash his hands an' face, Liked to work around the place; Never, when he'd tired of play, Left his wagon in the way, Or his bat an' ball around-- Put 'em where they could be found; An' that good boy married Ma, An' to-day he is my Pa.

Green Apple Time

Green apple time! an', Oh, the joy Once more to be a healthy boy, Casting a longin' greedy eye At every tree he pa.s.ses by!

Riskin' the direst consequence To sneak inside a neighbor's fence An' shake from many a loaded limb The fruit that seems so near to him Gosh! but once more I'd like to be The boy I was in eighty-three.

Here I am sittin' with my pipe, Waitin' for apples to get ripe; Waitin' until the friendly sun Has bronzed 'em all an' says they're done; Not darin' any more to climb An' pick a few afore their time.

No legs to run, no teeth to chew The way that healthy youngsters do; Jus' old enough to sit an' wait An' pick my apple from a plate.

Plate apples ain't to be compared With those you've ventured for an' dared.

It's winnin' 'em from branches high, Or nippin' 'em when no one's by, Or findin' 'em the time you feel You really need another meal, Or comin' unexpectedly Upon a farmer's loaded tree An' grabbin' all that you can eat, That goes to make an apple sweet.

Green apple time! Go to it, boy, An' cram yourself right full o' joy; Watch for the farmer's dog an' run; There'll come a time it can't be done.

There'll come a day you can't digest The fruit you've stuffed into your vest, Nor climb, but you'll sit down like me An' watch 'em ripening on the tree, An' jus' like me you'll have to wait To pick your apples from a plate.

She Mothered Five

She mothered five!

Night after night she watched a little bed, Night after night she cooled a fevered head, Day after day she guarded little feet, Taught little minds the dangers of the street, Taught little lips to utter simple prayers, Whispered of strength that some day would be theirs, And trained them all to use it as they should.

She gave her babies to the nation's good.

She mothered five!

She gave her beauty--from her cheeks let fade Their rose-blush beauty--to her mother trade.

She saw the wrinkles furrowing her brow, Yet smiling said: "My boy grows stronger now."

When pleasures called she turned away and said: "I dare not leave my babies to be fed By strangers' hands; besides they are too small; I must be near to hear them when they call."

She mothered five!

Night after night they sat about her knee And heard her tell of what some day would be.

From her they learned that in the world outside Are cruelty and vice and selfishness and pride; From her they learned the wrongs they ought to shun, What things to love, what work must still be done.

She led them through the labyrinth of youth And brought five men and women up to truth.

She mothered five!

Her name may be unknown save to the few; Of her the outside world but little knew; But somewhere five are treading virtue's ways, Serving the world and brightening its days; Somewhere are five, who, tempted, stand upright, Who cling to honor, keep her memory bright; Somewhere this mother toils and is alive No more as one, but in the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of five.

Little Girls Are Best

Little girls are mighty nice, Take 'em any way they come; They are always worth their price; Life without 'em would be glum; Run earth's lists of treasures through, Pile 'em high until they fall, Gold an' costly jewels, too-- Little girls are best of all.

Nothing equals 'em on earth!

I'm an old man an' I know Any little girl is worth More than all the gold below; Eyes o' blue or brown or gray, Raven hair or golden curls, There's no joy on earth to-day Quite so fine as little girls.

Pudgy nose or freckled face, Fairy-like or plain to see, G.o.d has surely blessed the place Where a little girl may be; They're the jewels of His crown Dropped to earth from heaven above, Like wee angel souls sent down To remind us of His love.

G.o.d has made some lovely things-- Roses red an' skies o' blue, Trees an' babbling silver springs, Gardens glistening with dew-- But take every gift to man, Big an' little, great an' small, Judge it on its merits, an'

Little girls are best of all!

The World and Bud

If we were all alike, what a dreadful world 'twould be!

No one would know which one was you or which of us was me.

We'd never have a "Skinny" or a "Freckles" or a "Fat,"

An' there wouldn't be a sissy boy to wear a velvet hat; An' we'd all of us be pitchers when we played a baseball match, For we'd never have a feller who'd have nerve enough to catch.

If we were all alike an' looked an' thought the same, I wonder how'd they call us, 'cause there'd only be one name.

An' there'd only be one flavor for our ice cream sodas, too, An' one color for a necktie an' I 'spose that would be blue; An' maybe we'd have mothers who were very fond of curls, An' they'd make us fellers wear our hair like lovely little girls.

Sometimes I think it's funny when I hear some feller say That he isn't fond of chocolate, when I eat it every day.

Or some other fellow doesn't like the books I like to read; But I'm glad that we are different, yes, siree! I am indeed.

If everybody looked alike an' talked alike, Oh, Gee!

We'd never know which one was you or which of us was me.

Aw Gee Whiz!

Queerest little chap he is, Always saying: "Aw Gee Whiz!"

Needing something from the store That you've got to send him for And you call him from his play, Then it is you hear him say: "Aw Gee Whiz!"

Seems that most expressive phrase Is a part of childhood days; Call him in at supper time, Hands and face all smeared with grime, Send him up to wash, and he Answers you disgustedly: "Aw Gee Whiz!"

When it's time to go to bed And he'd rather play instead, As you call him from the street, He comes in with dragging feet, Knowing that he has to go, Then it is he mutters low: "Aw Gee Whiz!"

Makes no difference what you ask Of him as a little task; He has yet to learn that life Crosses many a joy with strife, So when duty mars his play, Always we can hear him say: "Aw Gee Whiz!"