I'll pull
A very fine tune at first;
Now, "tum-ty ting tw-a-n-g!"
It sound's as if something had burst!
That string must 'a' truly been cracked,
Don't you s'pose? or moth-eaten, p'raps;
'Tisn't pleasant to practice, I'm sure,
But forlorn, when anything flaps.
So I guess I have finished; hark, hark!
He really IS coming--Oh my!
Now, Banjo, I know mamma wants me,
An' so I must bid you good-by!
MARGARET SIDNEY.
Mr. Bunny was a rabbit,
Mr. Bunny was a thief!
He hopped into my garden
And stole a cabbage leaf.
He ate up all my parsnips
Without asking if he may,
And when I tried to catch him
Kicked up his heels
and ran away.
BARBARA FRIETCHIE.
Up from the meadows rich with corn,
Clear in the cool September morn,
The clustered spires of Frederick stand
Green-walled by the hills of Maryland.
Round about them orchards sweep,
Apple and peach-tree fruited deep,
Fair as a garden of the Lord
To the eyes of the famished rebel horde,
On that pleasant morn of the early fall,
When Lee marched over the mountain-wall--
Over the mountains winding down,
Horse and foot, into Frederick town--
Forty flags with their silver stars,
Forty flags with their crimson bars,
Flapped in the morning wind: the sun
Of noon looked down, and saw not one.
Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then,
Bowed with her fourscore years and ten;
Bravest of all in Frederick town,
She took up the flag the men hauled down:
In her attic window the staff she set,
To show that one heart was loyal yet.
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