Page:Poems by Cushag.djvu/15

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13

Johnny an' me was married
Many a year ago,
An' a fine scutch of childher at us—
Ma word, how the lumpers grow!
Now its "Mayry, Mayry, Mayry, min' the chile,"
An' "Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, wipe your feet;"
An' I'm spendin' me time washin' dishes,
An' John is kep' running for meat!