A QUIET AFTERNOON

MY Mamma, she did go to call about an hour ago, An’ said if I ain’t bad at all an’ stayed at home with Flo, Which is the maid that cooks for us, she’d bring me something good, But if I’m one bit misschefuss she didn’t think she would. An’ my! I’m still, ’ist like a mouse. I never went outdoors, But ’ist sat down, inside the house, an’ took her bureau drawers An’ emptied ’em ’ist one by one, an’ w’en they’re emptied ’en I ’ist looked through what’s there for fun an’ put ’em back again! An’ ’en I found the nicest ink, an’ one of ’em was red, An’ one was black an’ ’en I think I spilt some on the bed, But my! I wiped it up, ’ist so, an’ sopped it with a quilt So clean you wouldn’t hardly know it’s ever once been spilt. Well, ’en I looked up on the shelf an’ found her scissors there An’ got ’em down all by myself an’ cut off all my hair, ’Tuz I don’t think it’s nice for girls like me ’at’s almost through First reader to wear such a curls like Mamma makes me do. ’En Flo gave me some bread and jam, ’tuz I ’ist cried and cried ’Ist tuz I’m hungry now, I am, an’ ’en I went inside, An’ maybe I did let it lay around the room somewhere, ’Tuz Flo came in to watch me play and squoshed it on a chair. An’ after while I wish my Ma would ’ist come back, she would, ’Tuz my, I’m gettin’ drefful tired of simply bein’ good. My eyes, ’ey’re ’ist so full of sand an’ heavy, ’ist like lead, Oh-oh! I dess it’s Sleepyland! I dess I’ll go to bed!