Poems (Geisse)/A Newsboy's Story
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A NEWSBOY'S STORY.
"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto me."—Matthew xxv. 40.
The snow was falling in great big flakes,
As white as the sugar they sift on cakes.
And the wind it took you by surprise,
And made you shiver and blink your eyes.
So fierce and angry-like it blew,
You'd have almost thought it was mad at you.
And Joe and me were awful cold,
And only half of our papers sold.
And we were hungry and tired, too,
And Joe's little fingers were nearly blue.
For we'd been out in the cold so long,
And Joe has never been over strong.
But Joe he ain't the chap to complain,
You see, he's used to bearing pain.
And many a time when he's feeling bad,
He'll whistle away as if he was glad—
When another youngster would be in tears;
He's a plucky chap for seven years.
Well, this here night he whistled away,
And hadn't hardly a word to say.
But his whistle sounded a kind o' weak,
So I just thought it was time to speak.
Says I to him, and I spoke real gruff,
"You've stood this cold just long enough.
There ain't no sense in trudging about
When I can sell your papers out,
For I don't mind this sort of a storm,
So you skip home, and try to get warm."
And I strove to take his papers away,
But Joe held on, and declared he'd stay.
And it looked as though we were having a fight,
When a jolly old gentleman came in sight,
And called to me in a threatening tone,
"I say, let that little chap alone."
Then Joe spoke up, right pert and smart,
So eager was he to take my part.
And when the old gentleman understood,
That I was bullying him for his good,
And that Joe and I were the best of friends,
He seemed real anxious to make amends,
For having thought that I would fight
Such a wee little chap on such a night.
And he said he'd give us lads a treat,
"If we would follow him down the street
To a big restaurant he knew,
We both should have an oyster stew."
Well, Joe and I were so surprised,
We stood and gaped with mouth and eyes.
We were a sort of dazed, you see,
For treats were new to Joe and me.
And when we entered a fine door,
And saw white tables by the score;
And such an awful glare of light,
Our hearts just beat with sudden fright.
But soon a man, with smiling face,
Gave Joe and me a cosy place
At a small table all alone,
With cloth so white it fairly shone.
And then he brought two smoking bowls.
And a huge plate of big brown rolls;
And lots of butter, and some tarts
Made in the shape of little hearts.
Well, I just smiled to see Joe eat,
The way that kid enjoyed the treat.
For he was hungry as could be.
And 1, I ate enough for three.
And when we were about to go,
Our benefactor seemed to know.
For up he popped, and looked so kind,
Though we felt shy, we didn't mind,
Because he seemed to feel our joy,
As if he'd been a hungry boy.
I'm sure he must have understood,
And that was why he was so good.
For as a rule folks must be told,
When you are hungry and cold.
Unless they've had the feeling, too,
They never know what's troubling you.
So Joe and I felt very sure
That our old friend had once been poor.
I shouldn't be surprised if he
Had once sold papers just as we.
And had been cold and hungry, too,
On days when customers were few.
For since that night we often meet,
And he has bought us many a treat.
And many a shining nickel, too,
Has he let fall to help us through,
Somehow, he always seems to know,
When times are hard with me and Joe.
For he will come, and speak so kind,
And say, "Well, fellows, have you dined?
Come, limber up, we'll have a treat,
I know that boys can always eat."
Then off we'll go, both Joe and I,
You never saw two chaps so spry.
And our old friend declares that he
Enjoys those treats as much as we.
As white as the sugar they sift on cakes.
And the wind it took you by surprise,
And made you shiver and blink your eyes.
So fierce and angry-like it blew,
You'd have almost thought it was mad at you.
And Joe and me were awful cold,
And only half of our papers sold.
And we were hungry and tired, too,
And Joe's little fingers were nearly blue.
For we'd been out in the cold so long,
And Joe has never been over strong.
But Joe he ain't the chap to complain,
You see, he's used to bearing pain.
And many a time when he's feeling bad,
He'll whistle away as if he was glad—
When another youngster would be in tears;
He's a plucky chap for seven years.
Well, this here night he whistled away,
And hadn't hardly a word to say.
But his whistle sounded a kind o' weak,
So I just thought it was time to speak.
Says I to him, and I spoke real gruff,
"You've stood this cold just long enough.
There ain't no sense in trudging about
When I can sell your papers out,
For I don't mind this sort of a storm,
So you skip home, and try to get warm."
And I strove to take his papers away,
But Joe held on, and declared he'd stay.
And it looked as though we were having a fight,
When a jolly old gentleman came in sight,
And called to me in a threatening tone,
"I say, let that little chap alone."
Then Joe spoke up, right pert and smart,
So eager was he to take my part.
And when the old gentleman understood,
That I was bullying him for his good,
And that Joe and I were the best of friends,
He seemed real anxious to make amends,
For having thought that I would fight
Such a wee little chap on such a night.
And he said he'd give us lads a treat,
"If we would follow him down the street
To a big restaurant he knew,
We both should have an oyster stew."
Well, Joe and I were so surprised,
We stood and gaped with mouth and eyes.
We were a sort of dazed, you see,
For treats were new to Joe and me.
And when we entered a fine door,
And saw white tables by the score;
And such an awful glare of light,
Our hearts just beat with sudden fright.
But soon a man, with smiling face,
Gave Joe and me a cosy place
At a small table all alone,
With cloth so white it fairly shone.
And then he brought two smoking bowls.
And a huge plate of big brown rolls;
And lots of butter, and some tarts
Made in the shape of little hearts.
Well, I just smiled to see Joe eat,
The way that kid enjoyed the treat.
For he was hungry as could be.
And 1, I ate enough for three.
And when we were about to go,
Our benefactor seemed to know.
For up he popped, and looked so kind,
Though we felt shy, we didn't mind,
Because he seemed to feel our joy,
As if he'd been a hungry boy.
I'm sure he must have understood,
And that was why he was so good.
For as a rule folks must be told,
When you are hungry and cold.
Unless they've had the feeling, too,
They never know what's troubling you.
So Joe and I felt very sure
That our old friend had once been poor.
I shouldn't be surprised if he
Had once sold papers just as we.
And had been cold and hungry, too,
On days when customers were few.
For since that night we often meet,
And he has bought us many a treat.
And many a shining nickel, too,
Has he let fall to help us through,
Somehow, he always seems to know,
When times are hard with me and Joe.
For he will come, and speak so kind,
And say, "Well, fellows, have you dined?
Come, limber up, we'll have a treat,
I know that boys can always eat."
Then off we'll go, both Joe and I,
You never saw two chaps so spry.
And our old friend declares that he
Enjoys those treats as much as we.