The Raggedy Man--one time when he Wuz makin' a little bow-'n'-orry fer me, Says "When _you're_ big like your Pa is, Air you go' to keep a fine store like his-- An' be a rich merchunt--an' wear fine clothes?-- Er what _air_ you go' to be, goodness knows!" An' nen he laughed at 'Lizabuth Ann, An' I says "'M go' to be a Raggedy Man!-- I'm ist go' to be a nice Raggedy Man!" Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! CURLY LOCKS [Illustration: Curly Locks--Title] _Curly Locks! Curly Locks! wilt thou be mine? Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the swine,-- But sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam, And feast upon strawberries, sugar and cream._ Curly Locks! Curly Locks! wilt thou be mine? The throb of my heart is in every line, And the pulse of a passion as airy and glad In its musical beat as the little Prince had! [Illustration: Sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam] Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the swine!-- O I'll dapple thy hands with these kisses of mine Till the pink of the nail of each finger shall be As a little pet blush in full blossom for me. But sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam, And thou shalt have fabric as fair as a dream,-- The red of my veins, and the white of my love, And the gold of my joy for the braiding thereof. And feast upon strawberries, sugar and cream From a service of silver, with jewels agleam,-- At thy feet will I bide, at thy beck will I rise, And twinkle my soul in the night of thine eyes! _Curly Locks! Curly Locks! wilt thou be mine? Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the swine.-- But sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam, And feast upon strawberries, sugar and cream._ THE FUNNY LITTLE FELLOW [Illustration: The Funny Little Fellow--Title] 'Twas a Funny Little Fellow Of the very purest type, For he had a heart as mellow As an apple over-ripe; And the brightest little twinkle When a funny thing occurred, And the lightest little tinkle Of a laugh you ever heard! His smile was like the glitter Of the sun in tropic lands, And his talk a sweeter twitter Than the swallow understands; Hear him sing--and tell a story-- Snap a joke--ignite a pun,-- 'Twas a capture--rapture--glory, And explosion--all in one! Though he hadn't any money-- That condiment which tends To make a fellow "honey" For the palate of his friends;-- Sweet simples he compounded-- Sovereign antidotes for sin Or taint,--a faith unbounded That his friends were genuine. He wasn't honored, may be-- For his songs of praise were slim,-- Yet I never knew a baby That wouldn't crow for him; I never knew a mother But urged a kindly claim Upon him as a brother, At the mention of his name. [Illustration: Never knew a baby that wouldn't crow for him]