And Other Poems.
41
UP-A-DAISY!
UP-A-DAISY! said his mother,
When the babe was three months old;
Up-a-daisy! and she’d lift him
From the rug whereon he rolled.
Soon the boy began to prattle,
And his lips would strive to say:—
“Up-a-daisy!” but he couldn’t
Master more than “Up-a-day!”
When the babe was three months old;
Up-a-daisy! and she’d lift him
From the rug whereon he rolled.
Soon the boy began to prattle,
And his lips would strive to say:—
“Up-a-daisy!” but he couldn’t
Master more than “Up-a-day!”
“Up-a-daisy!” quaint expression,
Coined in some old nurse’s brain,
As she tossed some merry baby
Up and down, and up again.
But our boy, unversed in diction,
Takes it in another way.
Help, assistance, comfort, succour,
Seeks he in his “Up-a-day!”
Coined in some old nurse’s brain,
As she tossed some merry baby
Up and down, and up again.
But our boy, unversed in diction,
Takes it in another way.
Help, assistance, comfort, succour,
Seeks he in his “Up-a-day!”
Months flew by—the boy grew stronger;
Childhood’s little griefs and cares,
Marr’d some merry, merry moments—
Stupid stools and naughty chairs.
Would persist in falling o’er him;
And, as on the ground he lay,
He would kick, and scream, and scramble—
“Mamma, Mamma, Up-a-day!”
Childhood’s little griefs and cares,
Marr’d some merry, merry moments—
Stupid stools and naughty chairs.
Would persist in falling o’er him;
And, as on the ground he lay,
He would kick, and scream, and scramble—
“Mamma, Mamma, Up-a-day!”
Now he falls across the fender,
Now he tumbles on the stairs,
Screams, and sobs, and runs to mother
With his troubles and his cares.
Now he tumbles on the stairs,
Screams, and sobs, and runs to mother
With his troubles and his cares.
