It's custard pie, first thing you know!

    An' nen she'll say:

    "Clear out o' my way!

    They's time fer work, an' time fer play!—

    Take yer dough, an' run, Child; run!

    Er I cain't git no cookin' done!"

    When our hired girl 'tends like she's mad,

    An' says folks got to walk the chalk

    When

     she's

    around, er wisht they had,

    I play out on our porch an' talk

    To th' Raggedy Man 'at mows our lawn;

    An' he says "

     Whew

    !" an' nen leans on

    His old crook-scythe, and blinks his eyes

    An' sniffs all round an' says,—"I swawn!

    Ef my old nose don't tell me lies,

    It 'pears like I smell custard-pies!"

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