Farmer's magazine (January-December 1920) . you geev dem a chance to lay?Leetle Bateese! Off on de fiel you foller de plough,Den wen youre tire you scare de cow,Sickin de dog till dey jomp de wallSo de milk aint good for noting at all—•An youre only five an a half dis fall,Leetle Bateese! Too sleepy for sayin de prayer to-night?Never min, I spose itll be all dem to-morrow—ah! dere he go!Fas asleep in a minute or so—And hell stay lak dat till de rooster crow,Leetle Bateese! Den wake us up right away toute suiteLookin for someting more to eat,Makin me tink of dem long leg as
Farmer's magazine (January-December 1920) . you geev dem a chance to lay?Leetle Bateese! Off on de fiel you foller de plough,Den wen youre tire you scare de cow,Sickin de dog till dey jomp de wallSo de milk aint good for noting at all—•An youre only five an a half dis fall,Leetle Bateese! Too sleepy for sayin de prayer to-night?Never min, I spose itll be all dem to-morrow—ah! dere he go!Fas asleep in a minute or so—And hell stay lak dat till de rooster crow,Leetle Bateese! Den wake us up right away toute suiteLookin for someting more to eat,Makin me tink of dem long leg as dey swaller, dey start again,I wonder your stomach dont get no pain,Leetle Bateese! But see heem now lyin dere in bed. Look at de arm onderneat hees head; If he grow lak dat till hes twenty year I bet hell be stronger dan Louis CyrAn beat all de voyageursleevin here,Leetle Bateese! Jus feel de muscle along hees geev heem moche bod- der for carry packOn de long portage, any size canoe,Deres not many ting dat boy wont For hes got double-joint on hees body, too,Leetle Bateese! But leetle Bateese! please dont forgetWe rader youre stayin de small boy chase de chicken an mak dem do wat you lak wit your old wen youre beeg feller he wont be dere—Leetle Bateese! —William Henry Drumraond. Hilltop Song When the lights come out in the cottages Along the shores at eve. And across the darkening water The last pale colors leave; And up from the rock-ridged pasture slopesThe sheep-bell tinklings the folds are shut, and the shepherdsTurn to their quiet meal; And even here, on the unfenced height. No journeying v/ind goes b>. But the earth-sweet smells and the home-sweet sounds Mount, like prayer, to the sky; Then from the door of my opened heartOld blindness and pride are I know how high is the dear earth how close to heaven. —Charles G. D. Roberts. My Lone Canoe and I What of the days that we two spe
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1920, booksubjectagriculture, bookyear
