Wednesday, August 5, 2015

A New Kind



Oh Mr. Doctor won’t you come,
     My dollie’s very sick;
And if you want to save her life
     You’ll have to hurry, quick.

“What is the matter?” Oh dear suz!
     I held her way up, so,
And then she spilled upon the floor
     And hurt her head, you know.

“Had she a bump upon her head,
     A bad one?” I should say;
It’s just like any bump, except
     It goes the other way.



Aug. 5, ‘06



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