He walked on to Boston, And round Bunker Hill, Bow-wowed, but no citizen heerd him— Till he ordered his baggage And called for his bill, And then, bless their souls! how they cheered him, As he gladly Walked on round The World. He walked and walked on For a year and a day— Dropped down at his own door and panted, Till a teamster came driving Along the highway And told him that house there was ha’nted By the two starve- Dest pups in The World. CHARMS I FOR CORNS AND THINGS Prune your corn in the gray of the morn With a blade that’s shaved the dead, And barefoot go and hide it so The rain will rust it red: Dip your foot in the dew and put A print of it on the floor, And stew the fat of a brindle cat, And say this o’er and o’er:— Corny! morny! blady! dead! Gory! sory! rusty! red! Footsy! putsy! floory! stew! Fatsy! catsy! Mew! Mew! Come grease my corn In the gray of the morn! Mew! Mew! Mew! II TO REMOVE FRECKLES—SCOTCH ONES Gae the mirkest night an’ stan’ ’Twixt twa graves, ane either han’; Wi’ the right han’ fumblin’ ken Wha the deid mon’s name’s ance be’n,— Wi’ the ither han’ sae read Wha’s neist neebor o’ the deid; An it be or wife or lass, Smoor tha twa han’s i’ the grass, Weshin’ either wi’ the ither, Then tha faice wi’ baith thegither; Syne ye’ll seeket at cockcraw— Ilka freeckle’s gang awa! A FEW OF THE BIRD-FAMILY The Old Bob-white, and Chipbird; The Flicker, and Chewink, And little hopty-skip bird Along the river-brink. The Blackbird, and Snowbird, The Chicken-hawk, and Crane; The glossy old black Crow-bird, And Buzzard down the lane. The Yellowbird, and Redbird, The Tomtit, and the Cat; The Thrush, and that Red_head_-bird The rests all pickin’ at! The Jay-bird, and the Bluebird, The Sapsuck, and the Wren— The Cockadoodle-doo-bird, And our old Settin’-hen! THROUGH SLEEPY-LAND Where do you go when you go to sleep, Little Boy! Little Boy! where? ’Way—’way in where’s Little Bo-Peep, And Little Boy Blue, and the Cows and Sheep A-wandering ’way in there—in there— A-wandering ’way in there! And what do you see when lost in dreams, Little Boy, ’way in there? Firefly-glimmers and glow-worm gleams, And silvery, low, slow-sliding streams, And mermaids, smiling out—’way in where They’re a-hiding—’way in there! Where do you go when the Fairies call, Little Boy! Little Boy! where? Wade through the dews of the grasses tall, Hearing the weir and the waterfall And the Wee Folk—’way in there—in there— And the Kelpies—’way in there!