Arthur Rodman’s “Jingles” Booklet-Pages 17-18

          WHAT’S HIS NAME?

R is for Riches he dreams he will make,
I is for Industry, much it will take,
C is for Clever with pen and with tongue,
H is for Honor with old and with young.
A is for Ambition for fame to acquire,
R is for Righteousness he must admire;
D is for Dimes he must know how to spend.

R is for Rights he must learn to defend,
O is for Order with playthings and clothes,
D is for Dare not on others impose.
M is for Manners to give us much joy,
A is for Aptness and not for annoy–
Now I have told you the name of my boy.

          HIS BIRTHDAY

So nine full years have flitted by
Since first this big boy oped his eye.
He had scant hair upon his head,
And lay quite “bawled” upon his bed.

I used to trot him on my knee,
But now he’s grown too big for me;
I used to throw him on my back
As tho he were a flour sack.

He’d make me dance and race and run,
He’d kick and squeal and have such fun;
He had no mercy on his Dad,
And sometimes “acted up” quite bad.

He thought his fists were good to eat,
And then he’d try it on his feet;
And when he learned to sit up straight
He kept his Dad up pretty late.

But now he’s grown so strong and big,
And wears his hair just like a wig;
He goes to school and learns so much,
And keeps close tab on “Doc” and “Yutch.”

I wonder what this boy will be?
I hope he won’t be just like me;
But that he’11 have such a lofty aim
That history will record his name.

          A SPRING MORNING

Come, my dears, it’s time to rise;
Open up those sleepy eyes.
All night long, so still you lay,
Resting for this glorious day.

There’s health and vigor in the air,
There’s joy and beauty everywhere.
The birds are singing in the trees
So gently swayed by morning breeze.

The stars have all gone back to rest,
The moon is sinking in the west.
Old Sol is hovering o’er the lake,
As tho a plunge he’d like to take.

The dew drops sparkle in the sun,
Like dazzling diamonds, every one.
Each tender blade and bursting bud
Is bathing now in crystal flood.

Dame Nature’s smilling (sic)–oh, so fair.
The woods and hills invite us there.
The roaring brooks, so blithe and gay,
Are calling us to come and play.

There’s not a cloudlet in the sky,
There’s naught but joy to greet the eye.
This day will some rich blessing bring,
For Nature seems to sweetly sing.

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