through the streets by a runaway wild, Of course he's on hand, and a "ten-strike" he makes, For he stops the mad steed in a couple of "shakes"; And he tells the glad Judge, who has wept on his hat,   "I did but my duty!" or something like that; And the very best place in the Judge's employ Is picked out at once for the story-book boy. Oh, the story-book boy! all his troubles are o'er, For he gets to be Judge in a year or two more; And the wicked old landlord in poverty dies, And the Squire's son drinks, and in gutters he lies; But the girl whom he saved is our hero's fair bride, And his old mother comes to their home to abide; In silks and sealskins, she cries, in her joy:   "Thank Heaven, I'm Ma of a story-book boy!"  

 

     THE SCHOOL-COMMITTEE MAN 

 

  Sometimes when we're in school, and it's the afternoon and late, And kinder warm and sleepy, don't yer know; And p'r'aps a feller's studyin' or writin' on his slate, Or, maybe chewin' paper-balls to throw, And teacher's sort er lazy, too—why, then there'll come a knock And everybody'll brace up quick's they can; We boys and girls'll set up straight, and teacher'll smooth her frock, Because it's him—the school-committee man. He'll walk in kinder stately-like and say, "How do, Miss Brown?"     And teacher, she'll talk sweet as choclate cake; And he'll put on his specs and cough and pull his eyebrows down And look at us so hard 't would make yer shake. We'll read and spell, so's he can hear, and speak a piece or two, While he sets there so dreadful grand and cool; Then teacher'll rap her desk and say, "Attention!" soon's we're through, And ask him, won't he please address the school. He'll git up kinder calm and slow, and blow his nose real loud, And put his hands behind beneath his coat, Then kinder balance on his toes and look 'round sort er proud     And give a big "Ahem!" ter clear his throat; And then he'll say: "Dear scholars, I am glad ter see yer here, A-drinkin'—er—the crystal fount of lore; Here with your books, and—er—and—er—your teacher kind and dear, And with—ahem—er—as I said before."    We have ter listen awful hard ter every word of his And watch him jest like kittens do a rat, And laugh at every joke he makes, don't care how old it is,     'Cause he can boss the teacher,—think of that! I useter say, when I growed up I 'd be a circus chap And drive two lions hitched up like a span; But, honest, more I think of it, I b'lieve the bestest snap Is jest ter be a school-committee man.  

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