LIST OF

ILLUSTRATIONS

AN INADVERTENT POEM

 There is a little flow-urr In our yard it does grow Where many a happy hou-urr I watch our rooster crow; While clothes hang on the clothes-line And plowing has began —And the name they call this lit-tul vine Is just "Old Man."  Old Man, Old Man A-growing in our yard, Every spring a-coming up While yet the ground is har-rrd; Pottering 'round the chickens' pan, Creeping low and slow, And why they call it Old Man I never asked to know. I never want to know. Crawling through the chick-weed, Dragging through the quack, Pussly, tansy, tick-weed Almost break his back. Catnip, cockle, dock prevent His travelling all they can, But still he goes the ways he's went, Poor Old Man! Old Man, Old Man, What's the use of you? No one wants to see you, like As if you hadn't grew. You ain't no good to nothing So far as I can see, Unless some maiden fair will sing These lines I've wrote to thee. And sing 'em soft to me. Some maiden fa-hair With { ra-haven } hair { go-holden } Will si-hing this so-hong To me-hee-ee! 

There is a little flow-urr

In our yard it does grow

Where many a happy hou-urr

I watch our rooster crow;

While clothes hang on the clothes-line

And plowing has began

—And the name they call this lit-tul vine

Is just "Old Man."

Old Man, Old Man

A-growing in our yard,

Every spring a-coming up

While yet the ground is har-rrd;

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