Why! here you are, my little croodlin’ doo! Looked in er cradle, but didn’t find you there-- Looked f’r my wee, wee croodlin’ doo ever’where; Be’n kind lonesome all er day withouten you-- Where you be’n, my teeny, wee, wee croodlin’ doo? Now you go balow, my little croodlin’ doo; Now you go rockaby ever so far,-- Rockaby, rockaby up to the star That’s winkin’ an’ blinkin’ an’ singin’ to you, As you go balow, my wee, wee croodlin’ doo! LITTLE MISTRESS SANS-MERCI Little Mistress Sans-Merci Fareth world-wide, fancy free: Trotteth cooing to and fro, And her cooing is command-- Never ruled there yet, I trow, Mightier despot in the land. And my heart it lieth where Mistress Sans-Merci doth fare. Little Mistress Sans-Merci-- She hath made a slave of me! “Go,” she biddeth, and I go-- “Come,” and I am fain to come-- Never mercy doth she show, Be she wroth or frolicsome, Yet am I content to be Slave to Mistress Sans-Merci! Little Mistress Sans-Merci Hath become so dear to me That I count as passing sweet All the pain her moods impart, And I bless the little feet That go trampling on my heart: Ah, how lonely life would be But for little Sans-Merci! Little Mistress Sans-Merci, Cuddle close this night to me, And the heart, which all day long Ruthless thou hast trod upon, Shall outpour a soothing song For its best belovéd one-- All its tenderness for thee, Little Mistress Sans-Merci! LONG AGO I once knew all the birds that came And nested in our orchard trees, For every flower I had a name-- My friends were woodchucks, toads, and bees; I knew where thrived in yonder glen What plants would soothe a stone-bruised toe-- Oh, I was very learned then, But that was very long ago. I knew the spot upon the hill Where checkerberries could be found, I knew the rushes near the mill Where pickerel lay that weighed a pound! I knew the wood--the very tree Where lived the poaching, saucy crow, And all the woods and crows knew me-- But that was very long ago. And pining for the joys of youth, I tread the old familiar spot Only to learn this solemn truth: I have forgotten, am forgot. Yet here’s this youngster at my knee Knows all the things I used to know; To think I once was wise as he!-- But that was very long ago. I know it’s folly to complain Of whatsoe’er the fates decree, Yet, were not wishes all in vain, I tell you what my wish should be: I’d wish to be a boy again, Back with the friends I used to know. For I was, oh, so happy then-- But that was very long ago! IN THE FIRELIGHT