The Poetry Corner


By Paul Laurence Dunbar

My muvver's ist the nicest one 'At ever lived wiz folks; She lets you have ze mostes' fun, An' laffs at all your jokes. I got a ol' maid auntie, too, The worst you ever saw; Her eyes ist bore you through and through,-- She ain't a bit like ma. She's ist as slim, as slim can be, An' when you want to slide Down on ze balusters, w'y she Says 'at she's harrified. She ain't as nice as Uncle Ben, What says 'at little boys Won't never grow to be big men Unless they're fond of noise. But muvver's nicer zan 'em all, She calls you, "precious lamb," An' let's you roll your ten-pin ball, An' spreads your bread wiz jam. An' when you're bad, she ist looks sad, You fink she's goin' to cry; An' when she don't you're awful glad, An' den you're good, Oh, my! At night, she takes ze softest hand, An' lays it on your head, An' says "Be off to Sleepy-Land By way o' trundle-bed." So when you fink what muvver knows An' aunts an' uncle tan't, It skeers a feller; ist suppose His muvver 'd been a aunt.