When we was visitin' a farm I begged an' begged an' maybe squealed, (I didn't see how it could harm) To just run barefoot in a field. Until at last the lady said They'd better let me go ahead. It was so stubbully that each Poor foot got hurtin' right away; Still I was bound that I would reach A haystack an' pertend to play. But I just cried against the stack For somebody to fetch me back. My brother only stood an' laughed! I might uv caught my death-o-cold Away out there in all that draught, 'Cause I am only eight years old. But sometimes seems zif older folks 'L laugh at things that isn't jokes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MAGDALEN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON GHOSTS OF THE OLD YEAR by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON CONSECRATED GROUND; READ AT THE NEW YORK CITY HALL by EDWIN MARKHAM THE INDIA WHARF by SARA TEASDALE THE DEEPER THOUGHT by MATTHEW ARNOLD |