* * * * *

THE KATYDIDS

  Sometimes I keep
  From going to sleep,
  To hear the katydids “cheep-cheep!”
  And think they say
  Their prayers that way;
  But katydids don’t have to pray!

[Illustration]

  I listen when
  They cheep again
  And so, I think, they’re singing then! 
  But, no; I’m wrong,—­
  The sound’s too long
  And all-alike to be a song!

  I think, “Well, there! 
  I do declare,
  If it is neither song nor prayer,
  It’s talk—­and quite
  Too vain and light
  For me to listen to all night!”

  And so, I smile,
  And think,—­“Now I’ll
  Not listen for a little while!”—­
  Then, sweet and clear,
  Next “cheep” I hear
  ’S a kiss....  Good morning, Mommy dear!

[Illustration]

* * * * *

BILLY AND HIS DRUM

  Ho! it’s come, kids, come! 
  “With a bim! bam! bum! 
  Here’s little Billy bangin’ on his big bass drum! 
  He’s a-marchin’ round the room,
  With his feather-duster plume
  A-noddin’ an’ a-bobbin’ with his bim! bom! boom!

  Looky, little Jane an’ Jim! 
  Will you only look at him,
  A-humpin’ an’ a-thumpin’ with his bam! bom! bim! 
  Has the Day o’ Judgment come
  Er the New Mi-len-nee-um? 
  Er is it only Billy with his bim! bam! bim!

* * * * *

[Illustration:  “HE’S A-MARCHIN’ ROUND THE ROOM.”]

* * * * *

  I ‘m a-comin’; yes, I am—­
  Jim an’ Sis, an’ Jane an’ Sam! 
  We’ll all march off with Billy an’ his bom! bim! bam! 
  Come hurrawin’ as you come,
  Er they’ll think you’re deef-an’-dumb
  Ef you don’t hear little Billy an’ his big bass drum!

* * * * *

THE NOBLE OLD ELM

  O big old tree, so tall an’ fine,
    Where all us childern swings an’ plays,
  Though neighbers says you’re on the line
    Between Pa’s house an’ Mr. Gray’s,—­
  Us childern used to almost fuss,
    Old Tree, about you when we ’d play.—­
  We’d argy you belonged to us,
    An’ them Gray-kids the other way!

  Till Elsie, one time she wuz here
    An’ playin’ wiv us—­Don’t you mind,
  Old Mister Tree?—­an’ purty near
    She scolded us the hardest kind
  Fer quar’llin’ ’bout you thataway,
    An’ say she’ll find—­ef we’ll keep still—­
  Whose tree you air fer shore, she say,
    An’ settle it fer good, she will!

* * * * *

[Illustration:  “THE OLD TREE SAYS HE’S ALL OUR TREE.”]