Sometimes when we're in school, and it's the afternoon and late, And kinder warm and sleepy, don't yer know; And p'r'aps a feller's studyin' or writin' on his slate, Or, maybe chewin' paper-balls to throw, And teacher's sort er lazy, too--why, then there'll come a knock And everybody'll brace up quick's they can; We boys and girls'll set up straight, and teacher'll smooth her frock, Because it's him--the school-committee man. He'll walk in kinder stately-like and say, "How do, Miss Brown?" And teacher, she'll talk sweet as choclate cake; And he'll put on his specs and cough and pull his eyebrows down And look at us so hard 't would make yer shake. We'll read and spell, so's he can hear, and speak a piece or two, While he sets there so dreadful grand and cool; Then teacher'll rap her desk and say, "Attention!" soon's we're through, And ask him, won't he please address the school. He'll git up kinder calm and slow, and blow his nose real loud, And put his hands behind beneath his coat, Then kinder balance on his toes and look 'round sort er proud And give a big "Ahem!" ter clear his throat; And then he'll say: "Dear scholars, I am glad ter see yer here, A-drinkin'--er--the crystal fount of lore; Here with your books, and--er--and--er--your teacher kind and dear, And with--ahem--er--as I said before." We have ter listen awful hard ter every word of his And watch him jest like kittens do a rat, And laugh at every joke he makes, don't care how old it is, 'Cause he can _boss the teacher_,--think of that! I useter say, when I growed up I 'd be a circus chap And drive two lions hitched up like a span; But, honest, more I think of it, I b'lieve the bestest snap Is jest ter be a school-committee man. * * * * * WASTED ENERGY South Pokus is religious,--that's the honest, livin' truth; South Pokus folks are pious,--man and woman, maid and youth; And they listen every Sunday, though it rains or snows or shines, In their seven shabby churches, ter their seven poor divines, Who dispense the balm and comfort that the thirstin' sperit needs, By a-fittin' of the gospel ter their seven different creeds, Each one sure his road ter Heaven is the only sartin way,-- Fer South Pokus is religious, as I started off ter say. Now the Pokus population is nine hundred, more or less, Which, in one big congregation, would be quite a church, I guess, And do lots of good, I reckon; but yer see it couldn't be,-- Long's one's tweedledum was diff'rent from the other's tweedledee. So the Baptists they are Baptists, though the church is swamped in debt, And the Orthodox is rigid, though expenses can't be met, And the twenty Presbyterians 'll be Calvinists or bust,-- Fer South Pokus is religious, as I said along at fust.