The Tramp Engineer

“Wot hev yer got there, m’s pretty little lass?”

     Said the loafer as the tot passed by;

And she stopped in alarm, with the basket on her arm,

     While she trembled at his horrid bad eye.

“I’ve got my papa’s dinner,” said the little maid,

     And the brute seized the basket from her hand;

“Wall, I am hungry too, an’ I’ll Kerry it fur you,

     Now run along m’s honey, unnerstand?”

“O, give me back his dinner, please sir,” she said,

     My papa is the engineer, you see;

I’m sure he wouldn’t care if I gave you a share,

     For my papa is as good as he can be.”

“My papa is the goodest goodest man I know,

     He will feed you if you come down to the mill;

Please sir, give it back,” and the little eyes of black

     Seemed to make him honest all against his will.

“My child,” said he, “Yer’ve teched me wretched heart,

     Here, take yer basket, little dear;

I once wuz – Ah well, it hain’t no good ter tell,

     But I’ll starve afore I’ll rob an engineer!”

March 17, ‘97