from furrin parts, He fetched the folks a lot of things ter brighten up their hearts; He fetched 'em silks and gloves and clothes, and knick-knacks, too, a stock, But all he fetched fer us was jest a fancy cuckoo clock.   'T was all fixed up with paint and gilt, and had a little door Where sat the cutest little bird, and when 't was three or four Or five or six or any time, that bird would jest come out And, 'cordin' ter what time it was, he'd flap his wings and shout:       "Hoo-hoo! Hoo-hoo! Hoo-hoo!"    Well, fust along we had it, why, I thought 'twas simply prime! And used to poke the hands around ter make it "cuckoo" time; And allers when we'd company come, they had ter see the thing, And, course they almost had a fit when "birdie" come ter sing. But, by and by, b'gosh! I found it somehow lost its joys, I found it kind er made me sick to hear that senseless noise; I wished 't was jest a common clock, that struck a gong, yer know, And didn't have no foolish bird ter flap his wings and go:       "Hoo-hoo! Hoo-hoo! Hoo-hoo!"    Well, things git on from bad to wuss, until I'm free ter grant, I'd smash it into kindlin', but a present, so, I can't! And, though a member of the church, and deacon, I declare, That thing jest sets me up on end and makes me want ter swear! I try ter be religious and ter tread the narrer way, But seems as if that critter knew when I knelt down ter pray, And all my thoughts of heaven go a-tumblin' down ter,—well, A different kind of climate—when that bird sets out ter yell:       "Hoo-hoo! Hoo-hoo! Hoo-hoo!"    I read once in a poetry book, that Ezry had ter home, The awful fuss a feller made about a crow, that come And pestered him about ter death and made him sick and sore, By settin' on his mantel-piece and hollerin' "Nevermore!"   But, say, I'd ruther have the crow, with all his fuss and row, His bellerin' had some sense, b'gosh! 'T was English, anyhow; And all the crows in Christendom that talked a Christian talk Would seem like nightingales, compared ter that air furrin squawk:       "Hoo-hoo! Hoo-hoo! Hoo-hoo!"  

 

     THE POPULAR SONG 

  I never was naturally vicious; My spirit was lamb-like and mild; I never was bad or malicious; I loved with the trust of a child. But hate now my bosom is burning, And all through my being I long To get one solid thump on the head of the chump Who wrote the new popular song. 

 

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