Why do they always seem to have

Just Not-Enough of everything?

Why don't you come?—Why can't I go?

It isn't Fair!—What makes it so?—

If they don't like it? Don't you know?

Why do you always never know?

[Pg 22]

Chestnut Stands

 wonder why you feel, somehow,

It's wrong to leave a Chestnut stand,

With all so much of what you want

In both your pockets and your hand.

I always have to turn around;—

It sounds so hurt—I don't see why—

That little high-up crying sound

I don't remember by and by.

There is not anything so good

As Chestnuts (when they're hot) can be.

It must be fun to count them out,

With One for You and One for Me;

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