Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TEDDY, by BELLE RICHARDSON HARRISON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TEDDY, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Och teddy alanna, would ye lave me alone
Last Line: "yit father o'day is a power in the lan'."
Subject(s): Children; Sickness; Childhood; Illness


(THE MITHER.)

"OCH Teddy alanna, would ye lave me alone,
Who'll comfort the mither when Teddy is gone?
Me nabors they call ye a broth o' a bhoy,
An' I'm fra to declare ye me darlin' an' jhoy.

"Och, sphake to me, Teddy, are ye wanthin' to die?
Och Father O'Day, on ye prayers I rely.
It's the faver that's schalded the brain o' the lad,
Since the starlin' flew past, it has raged vary bad.

"Och Teddy asthore, I'm the one to be tuck,
I'm ould an' so fable, och bother the luck!
Yore chakes are so red an' yore eyes are so bright,
But yore pore little forrum it weighs not a mite.

"It's a skillington bhoy that I hold to me heart,
Brace up, me own darlin'; O how kin I part
Wid the little sick kid an' be lift all alone
To fight the col' worruld as hard as a stone?"

(THE SICK KID.)

Then up stharted Teddy an' laid his thin hand
On the chake o' the mither—"ain't ye got iny sand
In ye craw, that ye snivel an' take on so bad?
Lots o' folks hav' got well fwhat was thin as a shad."

(FATHER O'DAY.)

"An' Teddy was right an' the mither was wrong,
In a vary few weeks he was hearthy and sthrong.
In swimmin' an' fightin' he could not be bate,
An' no bhoy in the warrd was so activ' an' flate.

"If ye quistion the lad as to fwhat made him sick,
'Pisen thruck from the docther,' he'll answer ye quick.
Not a worrud o' grane apples he ate by the score,
Nor o' chaze that he begged from the ghrocery sthore.

"Nor o' hours in the sun as a pitcher in ball,
Faix none o' these things will he mintion at all.
Och Teddy asthore is a thrifle too wild,
Though his mither belaves him an ilegant child.

"But mithers are bloind as bats that can't see,
An' Teddies are thick as the laves on a three.
Should he live to be ould, he may make a foine man,
For bhoys have been bhoys since the worruld began.

"Though ye may not belave it, I'm tillin' the thruth—
I wanst was a bhoy mesilf in my youth.
Though to sphake me own praise I was niver a han',
Yit Father O'Day is a power in the lan'."





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