Page 471 - The model orator, or, Young folks' speaker : containing the choicest recitations and readings from the best authors for schools, public entertainments, social gatherings, Sunday schools, etc. : including recitals in prose and verse ...
P. 471

THAT’S   EABV.
                                  O   NE little  row  of  ten  little  toes,
                                        To  go  along with  a brand-new nose,
                                        Eight new fingers and  two  new  thumbs
                                        That  are  just as  good  as  sugar plums—
                                                                      That’s baby.
                                 One  little  pair  of  round  new eyes.
                                 Like  a little  owl's,  so  big and  wise,
                                 One  little plate  they call a  moutli,
                                 Without one tooth,  from  North  to South—
                                                                      That's baby.
                                 Two  little  checks  to kiss  all day,
                                 Two  little  hands  so  in  his  way,
                                 A   brand-new  head, not  very  big,
                                 That  seems  to  need  a brand-new wig— -
                                                                      That's baby.
                                 Dear little  row of  ten  little  toes  !
                                 How  much  we love them nobody knows ;
                                 Ten  little  kisses  on  mouth  and chin,
                                 What a shame he  wasn’t  a twin— -
                                                                      That’s  baby.


                                                JOHNNY’S  POCKET*
                                    D    O  you know what's  in  my pottet ?
                                           Such a  lot o'  treasures in  it I
                                           Listen,  now,  while  I bed in’  it ;
                                           Such a  lot  o’  sings  it hold,
                                           And all there  is you  sail  be  told,—
                                         Every sin'  dat's  in my pottet
                                         And when,  and  where,  and how l  dot it.

                                    First of all,  here’s  in  my pottet
                                      A  beauty  shell;  I  picked  it  up ;
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