I wisht I knew what makes the top-time come Before it's gotten over bein' cold; Sometimes my fingers get so kinder numb The string can't help from comin' all unrolled. I like a top-string better when it's old, An' then I tell yer, I can make 'er hum! I've learnt a special secret way t' hold, By pressin', when I throw 'er, with my thumb. You know that stubby yeller one I had?— It split ten other tops, er maybe more— I broke it, an' I tell yer, I felt bad! But now she's mended better 'an before. I don't see why our cook should get so mad Each time I spin 'er on the kitchen floor. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A MOTH SEEN IN WINTER by ROBERT FROST HOMING BRAVES by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON LET ME NOT LOSES MY DREAM by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON COLLEGE DRINKING SONG by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE UNDERGRADUATE KILLED IN BATTLE; OXFORD, 1915 by GEORGE SANTAYANA |