Mother Truth's Melodies Part 2

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Ah, babies are sweet If their wants we but meet, So why should we blame them when fretful and cross?

Let us find what is wrong, And remove it ere long, And we'll see that time thus spent is never a loss.

Hush-a-bye, baby, What more can we do Hush-a-bye, baby, That will comfort you?

Hush-a-bye, baby, We'll lay you down flat, On your stomach, dear baby, On Grandmother's lap.

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Nor trot you a mite, No matter how slight, But, sure that your clothing is all dry and neat, We'll loosen each band, And with soft and warm hand, Gently rub you all over from head to your feet.

Hush-a-bye, baby, We will not forget, Hush-a-bye, baby, That hands may be wet, Hush-a-bye, baby, And soothe you sometimes, When dry hands won't do it, Hush, list to my rhymes!

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And now we'll not nurse Till the nursing's a curse; Nor dose you, nor drug you, nor feed with sweet-meats; Nor to soothe, will we try, With old "Dame Winslow" by, For our hopes for the babies, she ever defeats.

Hush-a-bye, baby, We'll quiet his nerves, Hush-a-bye, baby, The truth it deserves-- Hush-a-bye, baby-- Even here to be known: We will _quiet his nerves_ By _just calming our own!_ And our baby will feel The sweet hush o'er him steal, That brings with it soothing and comfort and rest; And to slumber so soft, His spirit we'll waft, And then lay him away in his own baby nest.

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_DON'T MAKE ME LAUGH_.

Dear Mamma, I've been laughing For Uncle Ben and Pa, And then for sister Lizzie I talked "ar-g o-o" and "gar;"

And then a "little story"

For d.i.c.k and Cousin Jane,-- And now you, Mamma, want me To laugh and talk again.

I'd like to do it, Mamma, but if I even try, I am so weary with it, I'm sure I'd only cry!

Don't let them try, dear Mamma, to make me laugh and crow, I'll do it when I'm able, for babies always do.

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_BYE-BABY-BUNTING_.

BYE-BABY-BUNTING, The Indians live by hunting, And bring home many a beaver-skin To wrap the little pappoose in.

And mother-squaw the baby'll tie Fast on a board, and swinging high, Will hang it up among the trees To rock-a-bye with every breeze; But our dear baby, snug and warm, Shall rock-a-bye on mother's arm.

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_TO BED WITH THE CHICKENS_.

Oh, put me in my bed, Mamma, When chickens go to rest, For I'm your little chick-a-dee, So put me in my nest.

Yes, when the birds forget to sing, And lambs forget to play, You'll put your birdy in his nest, Your lamb you'll fold away.

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_DIVE ME SUDAR_.

Papa, when you dive me tandy, Dive me only white,-- 'Tause there's poison in the tolored, Which my health will blight; But you better dive me sudar, Let the tandy be,-- 'Tause I shall not want so much, And that is best for me.

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_'TAUSE I'M TROSS_

Mamma, 'tause I'm tross don't whip me; I tan't help it, not a bit!

'Tis the tandy hurts my stomat, And that mates me whine and fret.

Sometimes, too, I'm whipped for trossness When the trossness tomes from meat; {35} Thint how tiders drowl and drumble, And then dive me food to eat That will mate me well and happy,-- Wheat and oat-meal, rice and truit, These will mate me dood and gentle, 'Stead of mating me a brute.

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THE NEW BOOK.

c.o.c.k-A-DOODLE-DOO, A picture-book for you,-- Keep it nice, and in a trice Sing c.o.c.k-a-doodle-doo.

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WHISk.u.m, WHISk.u.m.

Whisk.u.m, whisk.u.m, over the house, Scud the cloudlets, still as a mouse; Whisk.u.m, whisk.u.m, by-and-by They'll pour rain-drops from the sky.

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_THE JACK-HORSE_.

We will ride our Jack-horse All the meadows across; Oh no, do not whip him, But feed him, my dear!

A handful of gra.s.s In his mouth as we pa.s.s, Will make him trot gaily, And give us good cheer!