MINE SCHILDHOOD.

Dee schiltren dhey vas poot in ped,

All tucked oup for der nighdt;

I dates mine pipe der mantel off,

Und py der fireside prighdt

I dinks aboudt vhen I vas young—

Off moder, who vas tead,

Und how at nighdt—like I do Hans—

She tucked me oup in ped.

I mindt me off mine fader, too,

Und how he yoost to say,

"Poor poy, you haf a hardt oldt row

To hoe, und leedle blay!"

I find me oudt dot id vas drue

Vot mine oldt fader said,

Vhile smoodhing down mine flaxen hair

Und tucking me in ped.

Der oldt folks! Id vas like a dhream

To shpeak off dhem like dot.

Gretchen und I vas "oldt folks" now,

Und haf two schiltren got.

Ve lofes dhem more as neffer vas,

Each leedle curly head,

Und efry nighdt ve takes dhem oup

Und tucks dhem in dheir ped.

Budt dhen, somedimes, vhen I feels plue,

Und all dings lonesome seem,

I vish I vas dot poy again,

Und dis vas all a dhream.

I vant to kiss mine moder vonce,

Und vhen mine brayer vas said,

To haf mine fader dake me oup

Und tuck me in mine ped.