A LITTLE DANCE.
Reading edition
Oh, it is fun! Oh, it is fun! To dress ourselves up, as Grandma has done. See how we go! See how we go! Forward and back, heel and toe. Lighter than down, our feet come down Mind all your steps, and hold out your gown; Faster than that, whatever may hap, Cherry red waist and blue speckled cap. Hi! Master John! Ho! Master John! Don’t go to sleep, while the music goes on; Faster than that! Faster than that! Hold up your head, and flourish your hat! How she trips it along, that bright little maid, With her dainty blue skirt and spotted brocade; And that one in yellow, who wears the red rose How she keeps her mouth shut and turns out her toes. How they do spin! when they truly begin; Each dancer as airy and bright as a doll; While the music complete, keeps time to their feet, With its fiddle-dee-diddle and tol-de-rol-ol! Oh, it is fun! Oh, it is fun! To dance, when every duty is done; Forward and back, or all in a ring, A quick little dance is a very gay thing.
OLIVE A. WADSWORTH. Joey was a country boy, Father’s help and mother’s joy; In the morning he rose early,— That’s what made his hair so curly; Early went to bed at night,— That’s what made his eyes so bright; Ruddy as a red-cheeked apple; Playful as his pony, Dapple; Even the nature of the rose Wasn’t quite as sweet as Joe’s. Charley was a city boy, Father’s pet and mother’s joy; Always lay in bed till late; That’s what made his hair so straight, Late he sat up every night,— That’s what made his cheeks so white; Always had whate’er he wanted, He but asked, and mother granted; Cakes and comfits made him snarly, Sweets but soured this poor Charley. Charley, dressed quite like a beau, Went, one day, to visit Joe. “Come,” said Joey, “let’s go walking; As we wander, we’ll be talking; And, besides, there’s something growing In the garden, worth your knowing.” “Ha!” said Charley, “I’m your guest; Therefore I must have the best. All the inner part I choose, And the outer you can use.”
Joey gave a little laugh; “Let’s,” said he, “go half and half.” “No, you don’t!” was Charley’s answer, “I look out for number one, sir.” But when they arrived, behold, On the tree a peach of gold, All without, fair, ripe and yellow, Fragrant, juicy, tempting, mellow, And, within, a gnarly stone. “There,” said Joey, “that’s your own; As you choose, by right of guest, Keep your choice—I’ll eat the rest.” Charley looked as black as thunder, Scarce could keep his temper under. “’Twas too bad, I think,” said Joe; “Through the cornfield let us go, Something there, perhaps we’ll see That will suit you to a T.” “Yes,” said Charles, with accent nipping, “Twice you will not catch me tripping; Since I lost the fruit before, You now owe me ten times more. Now the outer part I choose, And the inner you can use.”
Joey gave another laugh; “Better call it half and half.” “No, indeed!” was Charley’s answer, “I look out for number one, sir! Well I know what I’m about,— For you, what’s in; for me what’s out!” On they went, and on a slope Lay a luscious cantaloupe, Rich and rare, with all the rays From the August suns that blaze; Quite within its sweets you find, And without the rugged rind. Charley gazed in blank despair, Deeply vexed and shamed his air. “Well,” said Joey, “since you would Choose the bad and leave the good; Since you claimed the outer part, And disdained the juicy heart,— Yours the rind, and mine the rest; But as you’re my friend and guest, Charley, man, cheer up and laugh, And we’ll share it half and half; Looking out for number one Doesn’t always bring the fun.”
