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!

1. Pan Liveth
2. My Playmates
3. After Reading Trollope's History of Florence
4. A Lullaby
5. Christmas Hymn

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