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.