An’ Fox he whipped her up,
       An’ pit her in his bag,
     An’ off he started all alone,
       Him and his little dag.

     All day he tracked the wood
       Up hill an’ down again;
     An’ wid him, shmotherin’ in the bag,
       The little small Rid Hin.

     Sorra a know she knowed
       Awhere she was that day;
     Says she, “I’m biled an’ ate up, shure
       An’ what’ll be to pay?”

     Thin she betho’t hersel’,
       An’ tuk her schissors out,
     An’ shnipped a big hole in the bag,
       So she could look about.

     An’ ’fore ould Fox could think
       She lept right out—­she did,
     An’ thin picked up a great big shtone,
       An’ popped it in instid.

     An’ thin she rins off home,
       Her outside door she locks;
     Thinks she, “You see you don’t have me,
       You crafty, shly ould Fox.”

     An’ Fox he tugged away
       Wid the great big hivy shtone,
     Thimpin’ his shoulders very bad
       As he wint in alone.

     An’ whin he came in sight
       O’ his great din o’ rocks,
     Jist watchin’ for him at the door
       He shpied ould mither Fox.

     “Have ye the pot a-bilin’?”
       Says he to ould Fox thin;
     “Shure an’ it is, me child,” says she;
       “Have ye the small Rid Hin?”

     “Yes, jist here in me bag,
       As shure as I shtand here;
     Open the lid till I pit her in: 
       Open it—­nivir fear.”

     So the rashkill cut the shtring,
       An’ hild the big bag over;
     “Now when I shake it in,” says he,
       “Do ye pit on the cover.”

     “Yis, that I will”; an’ thin
       The shtone wint in wid a dash,
     An’ the pot o’ bilin’ wather
       Came over them ker-splash.

     An’ schalted ’em both to death,
       So they couldn’t brathe no more;
     An’ the little small Rid Hin lived safe,
       Jist where she lived before.

THE STORY OF EPAMINONDAS AND HIS AUNTIE[19]

Epaminondas used to go to see his Auntie ’most every day, and she nearly always gave him something to take home to his Mammy.

One day she gave him a big piece of cake; nice, yellow, rich gold-cake.

Epaminondas took it in his fist and held it all crunched up tight, like this, and came along home.  By the time he got home there wasn’t anything left but a fistful of crumbs.  His Mammy said,—­

“What you got there, Epaminondas?”

“Cake, Mammy,” said Epaminondas.

“Cake!” said his Mammy.  “Epaminondas, you ain’t got the sense you was born with!  That’s no way to carry cake.  The way to carry cake is to wrap it all up nice in some leaves and put it in your hat, and put your hat on your head, and come along home.  You hear me, Epaminondas?”