Chapter I: HAVE many little doggie friends;

There’s Jip who wags at both his ends, And Buddie like a ball of silk, Who laps the cream and sniffs at milk, And Judie with her rubber ball Who never minds me when I call, And Rab who runs before the horse,-- I love to hear him bark, of course, ’Cept sometimes he most barks in two, And then I wish he’d stop, don’t you?

MY ANIMALS

HAVE you seen my little animals
Shut in a paper house?--
There’s a donkey and a camel
With a kittie and a mouse;

There’s a doggie and an elephant,
A lion and a bear,
All huddled in together,
And they never seem to care!

O I’m very, very hungry
And I think I’d like to eat
The donkey and the lion
And the elephant for meat;

They are all made out of crackers,
And if Mamma says I may,
I’ll eat a half a bag of them
And give the rest away.

BROWN BABY BALLADS

SIX LITTLE ESKIMO

SIX jolly little Eskimo Lived in the land of ice and snow. They played with their ivory dolls all night In a stuffy igloo with a smoky oil light. I wouldn’t live in a smoky igloo, Would you?

They dressed in seal-skin from hood to heel; I wonder how such a suit would feel! They chewed their blubber and smacked their lips And wiggled their toes and finger tips, But I wouldn’t like such food to chew, Would you?

And when they were tired of eating and play Their mammas stowed them safely away In the big white skin of a polar bear. Six little black heads in a row were there, But I wouldn’t like to be one of that crew, Would you?

PICCANINNY LULLABY

BAH low mah littl’ honey,
Bah low, littl’ piccaninny boy,
Shoo, shoo, littl’ coon, mah sonny,
Stop yoh winkin’ at yoh mammy, littl’ joy.

Sh! Sh! de wind comes creepin’,
Now cuddle close to mammy--so--so.
Quit yoh fussin’, don’ yoh know it’s time foh sleepin’
When de moon peeks in an’ tells yoh, littl’ Joe?

Go to sleep, shut yoh eyes, littl’ coon
Or de Voodoo come an’ fetch yoh right away;
Carry yoh cleah up into de moon,
An’ den what would yoh poh old mammy say?

THE MEXICAN BABIES

THE Mexican babies are chubby and gay;
Each family has ten or a dozen,
And all in the town are related, they say,
From a first to a twentieth cousin.

The house is adobe, the floor is of dirt;
In the patio sheltered and sunny
The babies can toddle with never a shirt
While their mammas can sing without money.

If the little black-headed brown baby should cry,
Or madre grow sick of his prattle,
His tears in an instant his sister can dry
With the end of a snake for a rattle.

Their little black dogs are a sight to behold,
All hairless and wrinkled as mummies;
With blankets about them to keep out the cold,
And the babies about them for chummies.

How happy these imps from the day they are born,--
They toddle and tumble in tatters;
Their faces are dirty, their clothes are all torn,
But nobody thinks that it matters.

THE LITTLE PIUTE

UP in Winnemucca in Piute land, Where the hot sun falls on the sage-brush sand, A little papoose in a basket lay, Fat as a badger and ready for play.

Mahali was proud of the way he grew Upon acorn soup and on pine-nut stew; She caught him a lizard and let it wiggle, Which set him off in a Piute giggle.

But the brush hut is lonely, for father’s not there; In ghost-land he’s hunting the bison and bear. Soon you will follow; alas--too soon, As your clan moves on toward the setting moon!

THE HONOLULU BOY

COCOANUT milk and poi,
Cocoanut curds and fish,
For the Honolulu boy,--
What more could a baby wish?

Taro and yams and chicken,--
Baby shall have a feast,--
Bones of the pig for pickin’,
Fat little face well greased!

A sleep in the house of grasses,
A swim in the cool lagoon,
A kiss as the trade wind passes,
And a low Kanaka tune!

A SAMOA SLEEPY-SONG

LIE on your mat, little tama, and sleep;
The pigeon has gone to its rest in the palm;
I see the bright moon through the ifi trees peep,
And the sleepy waves sing on the coral reef calm.

Sing to my tama, soft waves of the sea;
Some day he’ll ride in his rocking canoe,--
Ride on your laughing crests, happy and free,
Joyous to roll on your rollicking blue.

Sleep, little tama, the bats flutter low,
The breeze through the breadfruit-tree sighs to the star;
And out on the water, with torches aglow,
Your father and brother are fishing afar.

Tina will tuck the siapo around;
Sleep, little chief, for the spirits are nigh!
Fish-gods and wind-gods, and gods of the ground
Watch my brown baby as round him they fly!