Dear Mamma, I've been laughing For Uncle Ben and Pa, And then for sister Lizzie I talked "ar-g o-o" and "gar;" And then a "little story" For Dick and Cousin Jane,-- And now you, Mamma, want me To laugh and talk again. I'd like to do it, Mamma, but if I even try, I am so weary with it, I'm sure I'd only cry! Don't let them try, dear Mamma, to make me laugh and crow, I'll do it when I'm able, for babies always do. {31} _BYE-BABY-BUNTING_. BYE-BABY-BUNTING, The Indians live by hunting, And bring home many a beaver-skin To wrap the little pappoose in. And mother-squaw the baby'll tie Fast on a board, and swinging high, Will hang it up among the trees To rock-a-bye with every breeze; But our dear baby, snug and warm, Shall rock-a-bye on mother's arm. {32} _TO BED WITH THE CHICKENS_. Oh, put me in my bed, Mamma, When chickens go to rest, For I'm your little chick-a-dee, So put me in my nest. Yes, when the birds forget to sing, And lambs forget to play, You'll put your birdy in his nest, Your lamb you'll fold away. {33} _DIVE ME SUDAR_. Papa, when you dive me tandy, Dive me only white,-- 'Tause there's poison in the tolored, Which my health will blight; But you better dive me sudar, Let the tandy be,-- 'Tause I shall not want so much, And that is best for me. {34} _'TAUSE I'M TROSS_ Mamma, 'tause I'm tross don't whip me; I tan't help it, not a bit! 'Tis the tandy hurts my stomat, And that mates me whine and fret. Sometimes, too, I'm whipped for trossness When the trossness tomes from meat; {35} Thint how tiders drowl and drumble, And then dive me food to eat That will mate me well and happy,-- Wheat and oat-meal, rice and truit, These will mate me dood and gentle, 'Stead of mating me a brute. {36} THE NEW BOOK. COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO, A picture-book for you,-- Keep it nice, and in a trice Sing Cock-a-doodle-doo. {37} WHISKUM, WHISKUM. Whiskum, whiskum, over the house, Scud the cloudlets, still as a mouse; Whiskum, whiskum, by-and-by They'll pour rain-drops from the sky. {38} _THE JACK-HORSE_. We will ride our Jack-horse All the meadows across; Oh no, do not whip him, But feed him, my dear! A handful of grass In his mouth as we pass, Will make him trot gaily, And give us good cheer! {39} _HI-DIDDLE-DIDDLE_. HI-DIDDLE-DIDDLE Mother duck's in the middle, Her baby-ducks swimming around; With bills like a ladle, And feet like a paddle, No danger that they will be drowned {40} _THE RAIN_. Come, rain, come, That the water may run, That the meadow grass may grow; That the fruit and grain O'er hill and plain, May greet us as we go.