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Show F ATHICRHOOD. ' By Barton Braley. My kid; he's very woe and red. There is no hair upon his head. And save when he is being fed He cries At least he cries a lot, I'd say. But that's a new-born baby's way (I asked the doctors, that's what they Advise). My kid; he's such a tiny tyke And ho looks Just exactly like All others who have chanced to strike My gaze. But gee, the way his fingers cling. It sort of makes my pulses sinw,-And sinw,-And I've been happy as a king For days. My kid; an ordinary tot No doubt, but oh. to me he's not! He gives me pride that I cannot Keep hid My heart Is singing rhapsodies. I'm dr.-aming dreams and phantasies, And gosh. I'm proud of him, for he's MT kid! (Copyright, 1922, XEA Service.) oo |