Classic Poem

I

FOR CORNS AND THINGS

PRUNE your corn in the gray of the morn
With a blade that's shaved the dead,
And barefoot go and hide it so
The rain will rust it red:
Dip your foot in the dew and put
A print of it on the floor.

And stew the fat of a brindle cat,
And say this o'er and o'er: —
Corny! morny! blady! dead!
Gory! sory! rusty! red!
Footsy! putsy! floory! stew!
Fatsy! catsy!
Mew!
Mew!
Come grease my corn
In the gray of the morn!
Mew! Mew! Mew!

II

TO REMOVE FRECKLES — SCOTCH ONES

Gae the mirkest night an' stan'
'Twixt twa graves, ane either han';
Wi' the right han' fumblin' ken
Wha the deid mon's name's ance be'n, —
Wi' the ither han' sae read
Wha's neist neebor o' the deid;
An it be or wife or lass,
Smoor tha twa han's i' the grass,
Weshin' either wi' the ither,
Then tha faice wi baith thegither;
Syne ye'll seeket at cockcraw —
Ilka freckle's gang awa!