That-air yellin’ drives me wild!
Cain’t none of ye stop the child?
Want jer Daddy? ‘Naw.’ Gee whizz!
‘Want to be whur mother is!’
‘Want to be whur mother is! Want to be whur mother is!’
Coax him, Sairy! Mary, sing somepin far him! Lift him, Liz–
Bang the clock-bell with the key–
Er the _meat-ax!_ Gee-mun-nee!
Listen to them lungs o’ his!
‘Want to be whur mother is!’
‘Want to be whur mother is! Want to be whur mother is!’
Preacher guess’ll pound all night on that old pulpit o’ his;
‘Pears to me some wimmin jest
Shows religious interest
Mostly ‘fore their fambly’s riz!
‘Want to be whur mother is!’
* * * * *
‘Want to be whur mother is! Want to be whur mother is!’
Nights like these and whipperwills allus brings that voice of his!
Sairy; Mary; ‘Lizabeth;
Don’t set there and ketch yer death
In the dew–er rheumatiz–
Want to be whur mother is?

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