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Poem by Eugene Field Fitte the Sixth That noon a dozen little dears Were spanked and put to bed With naught to stay their appetites But cheerless crusts of bread. That noon a dozen hired girls Washed out each gown and shirt Which that exuberant Taylor pup Had frescoed o'er with dirt. That whole day long the Aprile sun Smiled sweetly from above On clotheslines flaunting to the breeze The emblems mothers love. That whole day long the Taylor pup This way and that did hie Upon his mad, erratic course, Intent on getting dry. That night when Mr. Taylor came His vesper meal to eat, He uttered things my pious pen Would liefer not repeat. Yet still that noble Taylor pup Survives to romp and bark And stumble over folks and things In fair Buena Park. Good sooth, I wot he should be called Buena's favorite son Who's sired of such a noble sire And dammed by every one! Eugene Field Eugene Field's other poems: ![]() 1176 Views |
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