Sonnets of a Budding Bard

 
Sometimes I get to wishin’ I might be
A little lamb like Mary’s, fond and true,
With Susan Sanderson as Mary, see?
We’d play amidst the clover sweet with dew,
And everywhere that she wast there’d be me,
And if she wasn’t, I’dst be elsewhere, too
 

Lines Wrote in School Whilst I Shouldst Have Been Studyin’ My Lesson

 
I’ve just about madest up my mind to be
A poet such as Shakespeare and the rest
Of them big literary gents, and dressed
In velvet clothes, write up the things I see
In some grand style to show that Browning he
 
 
Hast been done up! And when plain folks request
My autograph, then, throwin’ out my chest,
I’llst make them wish that they wast great like me!
 
 
I’m tired dwellin’ midst surroundin’s where
Cheap things art always waitin’ to be done:
I’dst rather loaf and dream and have long hair
Like all great poets dost: and, oh! what fun,
To dash off lays and sell them, then and there,
Whenever I’llst be needin’ any “mon.”
 

Thoughts Thought Whilst Thinkin’ about Mary and Her Pet Lamb

 
Full oft I’ve read how Mary’s lamb didst go
Where’er his kind and lovin’ mistress went,
As if the little creature wast content
If it couldst only be where she wast. Oh,
I realize what madest it hanker so
To be in school that day: it surely meant
It loved her! Yet, that mean old teacher bent
On bossin’ things – he didst not seem to know.
 
 
Sometimes I get to wishin’ I might be
A little lamb like Mary’s, fond and true,
With Susan Sanderson as Mary, see?
We’d play amidst the clover sweet with dew,
And everywhere that she wast there’d be me,
And if she wasn’t, I’dst be elsewhere, too.
 

Lines Wrote Whilst Thinkin’ about How Pa Acts When Dressin’ Up

 
Whilst pa and ma art dressin’ up to go
To church or somewhere, so I’ve heard ma tell
The neighbor women, pa tears ’round pell-mell
And turns things upside down, and wants to know
Who hid his clothes! and makes ma stop and show
Him where to find them. Ma she know’st full well
They’re where he’s kept them since he earnest to dwell
In our house: that’s been twenty years or so.
 
 
And when ma’s donest her level best to try
To help pa so he wilt not fuss and fret,
And found his clothes, shoes, collar, cuffs and tie,
And there ain’t nothin’ more for her to get,
Pa looks at her and with an awful sigh
Says: “Thunderation! Ain’t you ready yet?”