You better not fool with a Bumblebee!-- Ef you don't think they can sting--you'll see! They're lazy to look at, an' kindo' go Buzzin' an' bummin' aroun' so slow, An' ac' so slouchy an' all fagged out, Danglin' their legs as they drone about The hollyhawks 'at they can't climb in 'Ithout ist a-tumble-un out agin! Wunst I watched one climb clean 'way In a jim'son-blossom, I did, one day,-- An' I ist grabbed it--an' nen let go-- An' "_Ooh-ooh! Honey! I told ye so!_" Says The Raggedy Man; an' he ist run An' pullt out the stinger, an' don't laugh none, An' says: "They _has_ ben folks, I guess, 'At thought I wuz predjudust, more er less,-- Yit I still muntain 'at a Bumblebee Wears out his welcome too quick fer me!" [Illustration: The Bumblebee] THE BOY LIVES ON OUR FARM [Illustration: The Boy Lives on Our Farm--Title] The boy lives on our Farm, he's not Afeard o' horses none! An' he can make 'em lope, er trot, Er rack, er pace, er run. Sometimes he drives two horses, when He comes to town an' brings A wagon-full o' 'taters nen, An' roastin'-ears an' things. Two horses is "a team," he says, An' when you drive er hitch, The right-un's a "near-horse," I guess Er "off"--I don't know which-- The Boy lives on our Farm, he told Me, too, 'at he can see, By lookin' at their teeth, how old A horse is, to a T! I'd be the gladdest boy alive Ef I knowed much as that, An' could stand up like him an' drive, An' ist push back my hat, Like he comes skallyhootin' through Our alley, with one arm A-wavin' Fare-ye-well! to you-- The Boy lives on our Farm! [Illustration: Stand up like him an' drive] THE SQUIRTGUN UNCLE MAKED ME [Illustration: The Squirtgun Uncle Maked Me--Title] Uncle Sidney, when he wuz here, Maked me a squirtgun out o' some Elder-bushes 'at growed out near Where wuz the brickyard--'way out clear To where the toll-gate come! So when we walked back home again, He maked it, out in our woodhouse where Wuz the old workbench, an' the old jack-plane, An' the old 'pokeshave, an' the tools all lay'n' Ist like he wants 'em there. He sawed it first with the old hand-saw; An' nen he peeled off the bark, an' got Some glass an' scraped it; an' told 'bout Pa, When _he_ wuz a boy an' fooled his Ma, An' the whippin' 'at he caught. Nen Uncle Sidney, he took an' filed A' old arn ramrod; an' one o' the ends He screwed fast into the vise; an' smiled, Thinkin', he said, o' when he wuz a child, 'Fore him an' Pa wuz mens. He punched out the peth, an' nen he put A plug in the end with a hole notched through; Nen took the old drawey-knife an' cut An' maked a handle 'at shoved clean shut But ist where yer hand held to. An' he wropt th'uther end with some string an' white Piece o' the sleeve of a' old tored shirt; An' nen he showed me to hold it tight, An' suck in the water an' work it right An' it 'ud ist squirt an' squirt! [Illustration: The Squirtgun--Tailpiece]