Dripping with sweat, I entered my
master's presence once more "Please, sir, you bid me give the cow some corn
_in the ear_, but didn't you mean the _mouth?_" He looked at me a
moment, and then burst into such a convulsion of laughter, that I made for
the stable as fast as my feet could take me, thinking I was in the service
of a crazy man.
* * * * *
POOR LITTLE JOE.
Prop yer eyes wide open, Joey,
Fur I've brought you sumpin great.
Apples? No, a deal sight better!
Don't you take no interest, wait'
Flowers, Joe,--I know'd you'd like 'em--
Ain't them scrumptious, ain't them high
Tears, my boy, what's them fur, Joey?
There--poor little Joe--don't cry.
I was skippin' past a winder,
Where a bang-up lady sot,
All amongst a lot of bushes--
Each one climbin' from a pot.
Every bush had flowers on it;
Pretty! Mebbe' not! Oh no'
Wish you could a-seen'm growin',
It was such a stunnin show.
Well, I thought of you, poor feller,
Lyin' here so sick and weak,
Never knowin' any comfort,
And I puts on lots o' cheek;
"Missus," says I, "if yo please, mum,
Could I ax you for a rose?
For my little brother, missus,
Never seed one, I suppose.
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