THE LOST CHILD

I ’MEMBER when they cut my curls not very long ago, Because they looked just like a girl’s, and I’m a boy, you know; I used to wear ’em awful long, and once my Pa, he said, It’s time I had my curls cut off and wore short hair instead; Because I’m big enough for that; and then they took the shears And snipped my curls off one by one right close up to my ears, But every time a curl came off, my Mother, she just hid Her face a little bit and cried. I wonder why she did! And after while she picked one up and held it in her hand With something shining in her eyes I didn’t understand; She petted it as if it was a little boy or girl, And acted fond of it when it was nothing but a curl. And after while they’re all cut off and down there on the floor, And I looked much more like a boy than I had been before, But there was something in her eyes she tried and tried and tried To brush away, but still it came. I wonder why she cried. And after while I’m all trimmed off, and then my Pa, he said, I’m not a baby any more, but I’m a boy instead, And he is awful proud of me, and then my Ma, she smiled And said we found a boy that day and lost a little child; So I said I would hunt for him and bring him back but then She said she was afraid that he would not come back again; And picked the curls I had all up from off the floor and hid Them in her bureau drawer and cried. I wonder why she did.