BOY BLUE AND HIS GUN.

“RUB-a-dub-dub,” Said the boy in blue, “I have got a big gun And I will shoot you.” “Oh, don’t shoot me,” Said the little brown dog; “Go down to the mill-pond, And shoot at a frog.” “Oh, no, no!” Said the boy in blue; “I’ve made up my mind That I will shoot you.” “I can’t shoot frogs, They won’t stand still, Ker-splash! they go under The wheel of the mill.” “I shan’t stand still, No more than the frog, So you can’t shoot me,” Said the little brown dog. He ran in a hole Right under the house And lay there as still— As still as a mouse. “Well, I don’t care,” Said the boy in blue, “I’ll shoot a robin, and Bring him down, too.” “Do,” cried the cat; “That will be nice, And I will crunch All his bones in a trice.” The blue boy took aim, But aimed not aright, Or like cock-sparrow He shot in a fright. The robin he missed But killed the old cat; His grandmother gave him A thrashing for that.