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Show (ill A NOMA'S AI) VKXTTRK It chanced one autumn evening. Not many moons ago, That I had a little errand To my ne ghl.rr's pister Snow. .1 !o I donned my v arm gray jacket And my treasured scarf of s'.'.U, nd I took my best tin bucket, In w Inch I carry milk. hus I started off triumphant. 'i linking then of this and that -nil perhaps I'd stop awTiile With sister Snow and chat. e talked some matters ovsr, And of the threatening weather; tow time had wrought such wonder-ous wonder-ous change Since we were girls together. The shades of night, are falling, I must he gone now. Just wait; I'll fill your bucket With milk from our new cow. I must make haste and hurry home And mind what I'm about, And so, to save a little time, I'll take the shortest route. Vnd so I marched right onward, But lo, to my dismay, I bumped right up against a gate. Swung just across my way. Half dazed I gathered up myself And started on once more j But Oh, Alas, my milk pail, 1 Much lighter than before. "I wish my eyes were brighter, And the lights were not so few." When, lo, to my utter horror I struck gate number two. Besmeared with milk all up and down And head all bruised and sore, I never dreamed that I was doomed To face gates three and four. ") how I wish folks used their heads And a little native pride, And considered others rights enough To swing these gates inside. t lenghth I reached old Janson's, Who keeps a good sized pond. Of geese and ducks in plenty I know he's very fond. But when it comes to flooding j Across our right of way, I My indignation rises ! And I'd like to have my say. j One desperate leap and I would clear This pool of mud and water, or I was growing faint and weak My frame began to totter. My milk pail flew high up in air And its last remaining drop oon vanished in that murky mess, And I land square on top. A sorry sight I looked, indeed, As I issued from the fray But I knew I'd seen the stars enroute And made the milky way. Of course I'm old and foagish, But I would love to see , The old town where I've lived so long From all these ills made free. And may that time not be far hence When men shall understand, To work with might for love of right To beautify our land. MRS. GRACE JACOBSEN |