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Tonsils Post by :clicksorad Category :Poems Author :Edgar A. Guest Date :October 2011 Read :2813

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One day the doctor came because my throat was feeling awful sore,
And when he looked inside to see he said: "It's like it was before;
It's tonserlitis, sure enough. You'd better tell her Pa to-day
To make his mind up now to have that little party right away."

I'd heard him talk that way before when Bud was sick, and so I knew
That what they did to him that time, to me they planned to come and do.
An' when my Pa came home that night Ma said: "She can't grow strong and stout
Until the doctor comes an' takes her addynoids an' tonsils out."

An' then Pa took me on his knee and kissed me solemn-like an' grave,
An' said he guessed it was the best, an' then he asked me to be brave.
Ma said: "Don't look at her like that, it's nothing to be scared about";
An' Pa said: "True, but still I wish she needn't have her tonsils out."

Next morning when I woke, Ma said I couldn't have my breakfast then,
Because the doctors and the nurse had said they would be here by ten.
When they got here the doctor smiled an' gave me some perfume to smell,
An' told me not to cry at all, coz pretty soon I would be well.

When I woke up Ma smiled an' said: "It's all right now"; but in my head
It seemed like wheels were buzzing round and everywhere I looked was red.
An' I can't eat hard cookies yet, nor use my voice at all to shout,
But Pa an' Ma seem awful glad that I have had my tonsils out.

(The end)
Edgar A. Guest's poem: Tonsils

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At Dawn At Dawn

At Dawn
They come to my room at the break of the day,With their faces all smiles and their minds full of play;They come on their tip-toes and silently creepTo the edge of the bed where I'm lying asleep,And then at a signal, on which they agree,With a shout of delight they jump right onto me.They lift up my eyelids and tickle my nose,And scratch at my cheeks with their little pink toes;And sometimes to give them a laugh and a scareI snap and I growl like a cinnamon bear;Then over I roll, and with three kids astrideI gallop away on their feather-bed

The Fun Of Forgiving The Fun Of Forgiving

The Fun Of Forgiving
Sometimes I'm almost glad to hear when I get home that they've been bad;And though I try to look severe, within my heart I'm really gladWhen mother sadly tells to me the list of awful things they've done,Because when they come tearfully, forgiving them is so much fun.I like to have them all alone, with no one near to hear or see,Then as their little faults they own, I like to take them on my kneeAnd talk it over and pretend the whipping soon must be begun;And then to kiss them at the end--forgiving them is so much fun.Within the world