My Grandma's Getting Old, They Say

My Grandma's Getting Old, They Say

My Grandma's getting old, they say.
Her hair is white, her step is slow.
She never goes a-pleasuring,
She'd rather sit and knit, or sew.
Her shoulders stoop and 'thout her specs
She'd find it hard, indeed, to see.
My Grandma's getting old, they say.
But, oh ! She is not old to me.

My Grandma's getting old they say,
But, oh ! She is not old to me.
A finer pal than Grandma is
I don't believe you'd ever see.
She mends my toys, and when I like
She'll play "make calls," or "drinking tea.'
My Grandma's getting old they say.
But NEVER will be old to me,

Out at Grandma's

Out at Grandma's

They is roses out at Grandma's,
Growin' low an' growin' high.
I can pick jist all I want to,
Ner don't have to on the sly.

They's a well, too, out at Grandma's,
With a bucket to let down.
Water's cold enough to freeze you.
'Taint like what you get in town.

An' they's green grass out at Grandma's,
Plenty, growin' all around,
S' thick that when you waller in it,
You don't know you're on the ground.

They is fruit trees out at Grandma's,
Fruit, too,, on 'em, hangin' thick.
Grandma says: "Jist help your-self, dear,
I don't care how much you pick."

They's a garden out at Grandma's.
In it's all good things to eat.
Posies, too, in beds a-growin',
Edged with cockle shells so neat.

They is bees, too, out at Grandma's,
Bees a-buzzin'. Hear 'em hum !
Biscuits hot with honey on 'em !
Ain't they good ? Oh, yum, yum, yum !

When I'm big I'm goin' to have me
A nice home like Grandma's is.
An' my kids will get to live there.
Won't they have the fun? Gee whiz!

When Grandma Comfys Me

When Grandma Comfys Me

Sometimes I hurt myself so bad
When I am at my play,
That I just simply have to cry.
If 'taint the bravest way.

Then I run quick to Mamma,
But she only says, "Oh, fie!
You're almost six years old, my dear,
And far too big to cry."

And then I go to Grandma.
She takes me on her knee,
And gives me bear-hugs in her arms
As tight as tight can be,

And says, "There, Grandma's baby.
Is this the place? do tell!
I think a little lip-salve, dear,
Will quickly make it well."

And then she says, "Now Mr. Bruise,
Here's kisses, one, two, three,"
And I get well just awful quick
When Grandma comfys me.

"Girls Will Be Girls"

"Girls Will Be Girls'

My Mamma and my Daddy say,
When we make lots of noise,
"Such harum-scarum girls you are!
You're rude as any boys."

But my Grandma, who's lots older,
(You'd think she'd be the one
To fuss and frown at our rough ways)
Says, "let them have their fun."

Then she rings-a-rosy with us
Until my head just whirls,
And when we stop, she pants, "Heigh-ho!
You see girls will be girls."

Heigh-So, 'Tis Her Way!

Heigh-So, 'Tis Her Way!

Grand-mother, why do you wear a frilly lace cap?
And why every day must you have your short nap?
And why, when to the church each fair Sunday
you go,
Must the strings of your bonnet be folded just so?
"Heigh-ho,"
Hear her say,
" 'Tis my way!"

Grand-mother, you are so nice to rude girls and
boys.
Now, why don't you scold when we make such
great noise?
Why give us seed cakes and such good things to
eat,
'Till coming to your house is our very best treat?
"Heigh-ho,"
Hear her say,
" 'Tis my way!"

Dancing Dolls

Dancing Dolls

Sometimes our Grandma'll call us:
"Come John and little Sue,
Let's see what my sharp scissors
Can find to-day to do."

Then she takes a bit of paper
And folds it up just so,
Then slashes with her scissors
And 'fore our eyes there'll grow

A row of dogs or horses,
Or pretty parrot Polls,
But oh, we like the best of all
The little dancing dolls.

They bow and prance and caper,
All dancing in a row;
They are such queer, quaint creatures,
But oh, we love them so.

Christmas Secrets

Christmas Secrets

I tell mine all to Grandma,
And she tells hers to me,
And we have just the mostest fun
That ever you did see.

Each time I get a new one,
I whisper in her ear,
And Grandma whispers back again,
And laughs and says, "Dear ! Dear!'

But I've one now I have to keep.
I can't tell her, you see.
I wonder - do you 'spose she might
Be keeping one from me?

A "Blue" Story

A "Blue" Story

It stands here on the mantle,
My Grandma's queer old plate.
I'd tell to you the story
I've heard her oft relate,
Only it's written on it
As plain as plain can be.
No need for any telling
If one has eyes to see.

A princess has a lover,
(As most king's daughters do.)
You see him here a waiting,
Beneath this tree of blue.
Blue grass is all around him;
A blue sky bends above;
And o'er the blue tree's branches
There hovers a blue dove.

Far in the blue, dim distance,
A castle blue you see,
And shrubs and flowers a growing
Upon a deep blue lea.
Blue cows feed in the meadow.
Blue lambs disport there, too.
It certainly's unusual,
This landscape all in blue.

She goes to meet her lover,
The princess, all in blue.
What seems so very funny,
Even her hair's blue, too.
A boat-man near awaits them.
His craft a neat blue boat,
And if they can but reach it,
They'll safely be afloat.

The king in blue advances
Across a blue draw-bridge.
Their sole way of escaping
Is up a steep, blue ridge.
And so the pair just stand there,
All stiff from fright. And blue!
Small wonder they're discouraged,
What can the poor things do?

When Grandma Knits

When Grandma Knits

My Grandma loves to sit and knit.
Click, clack, her needles go ;
While "squeak, squeak" says her rocking chair,
A-rocking to and fro.

My Grandma knits such lovely things,
Mufflers for Tom and Will,
And bouncy-balls for baby dear
To help to keep her still;

And little stockings for my doll,
And horsey-lines for Ned, 

And wristlets, too, for Jack and Joe

Of yarn so bright and red,

And mittens for the very poor,

And hoods all nicely lined;

It seems to me a lot of work,

But Grandma doesn't mind,

But only sits and smiles and smiles,

And knits the live-long day,

And seems to have a better time

That I do when I play.

I like to watch my Grandma knit.

Click, clack her needles go,

While "squeak, squeak" says her rocking chair,

A-rocking to and fro.

Herb Tea

Herb Tea

One time I was just awful sick,
And weak as I could be.
'Twas when I was at Grandma's house.
She dosed me with herb tea.
She didn't call the Doctor man;
She said there was no need,
That I was just a mite run down,
And kinder off my feed.

Now usually I fume and fret
When Mamma calls him in.
The Doctor gives such awful dope.
And it tastes worse'n sin.
If all the stuff I ever took
Could mixed together be,
It wouldn't taste one-half as bad
As Grandma's bitter tea.

Surprisin', though, how quick it worked
To make me feel so well.
If you won't give it all away,
The reason I will tell.
Because I found one nasty dose
Was quite enough for me
To suit my taste, so I got well
To dodge another. See?

I'm Grandma's Little Girl

I'M GRANDMA'S LITTLE GIRL

I'm Grandma's little girl, she says.

That makes me proud as proud can be.

She calls me that when I'm dressed up

And Ma says, "Run, let Grandma see."

Sometimes she calls me her big girl.

That makes me, oh, much prouder still.

'Tis when she's let me do some work,

(Like fetching drinks when she is ill.)

Grandma's Errands

GRANDMA'S ERRANDS

My Grandma Gray is very old,

And when she sews I'm apt to hear,

"I find I can't my needle thread,

Come be my eyes, my dear."

Or if she tries to go up stairs,

She'll likely say, " 'Tis very plain

That I will have to have some aid,

My dear, just come and be my cane."

Or if she needs an errand done,

She'll say, "It is too far, I fear.

I could not make it there at all,

Go be my feet, my dear."

I like sometimes to comb her hair;

She likes it, too, 'tis very clear,

For mornings, 'fore she dons her cap,

She'll call, "Come be my hands, my dear.'

My Mamma says such kindly deeds

Are far the best way I could show

To Grandma, so she'd understand

Her Grandchild loves her so.

And Grandma is so nice to me,

I could not bear to give her pain,

So that is why I gladly run

To be her eyes, her hands, her cane.