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Show Where my Aunt Lizzie's is, is where We Co Thanksgivin' Day, an' she Wears tortle shell combs In her hair An' 's just as nice as she can be; An' it's th country there, an ain't No street cars, nor policemen O, An' if you ever scratch the paint She lets on like she doesn't know. An' where Aunt Lizzie's is, is trees An once we went in summer time An I tfot 'quainted with th bees, ' An she don't care how much I climb. But now th' bees is gone to sleep. But my Aunt Lizzie, she can tfet Th' honey 'at th bees all keep Out where their funny houses set. An' my Aunt Lizzie, she makes pics, An' she has jelly, too, an' Jam, An' pickles, too th' bitftfest size! An' quince preserves, an cake, an' ham. An apple butter yes, an' lots Of other butter I An' she cooks More things in tfrea' big pans an' pots. An' talks about how hot she looks. An my Aunt Lizzie says 'it I Just ought to stay ritfht ther wif her. An' says she'll warrant by-an'-by My cheeks d both be red yes, sir! An' my Aunt Lizzie cooks more things 'An you could buy in any store. An' calls her pickle peaches "clings," An' asts us all to take some more An' my Aunt Lizzie, when we go To her house on Thanksglvln' Day, She's got her yard filled full of snow She says, just so 'at I can play. An' she makes pa an ma keep still An' let me have four kinds of cake An I eat full as I can fill. An then I have th stomach ache! |