| OCR Text |
Show Stories or Old Days. Tou never hear good stories now The dear old-fashioned kind These modern tales don't seem, somehow, To satiety the mind. I wish someone would tell n few I.Ike thoso wo loved of old; The ones we used to think were true Tho stories mother toldl When I ran Just a llttlo chap As soon ns It was nlglit I d climb up Into mother's lap And sho would hold mo tight And tell of fairies, giants, and Of warrlots biave and bold. Never have tales seemed half so grand As those that mother toldl Tale after tale shoM tell nnd then. When sho would say she'd done. Id alwajs malro her start Again And tell another one. Until at last, all tired out. lly eyes would lose their hold On wakefulness I'd dream about Tho tales that mother ;told. Then, by and by. there'd come a knock, And she'd let father In. ' And as she pointed at tho clock Ile'd give a sickly grin; Ills business kept turn late, he swore. And he'd explain and scold, Till mother's tales looked pale before The stories father toldl f t'eU .., 1 ....... |
