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Title: Lizzie
Author: Eugene Field [
More Titles by Field]
I WONDER ef all wimmin air
Like Lizzie is when we go out
To theaters an' concerts where
Is things the papers talk about.
Do other wimmin fret an' stew
Like they wuz bein' crucified,--
Frettin' a show or concert through,
With wonderin' ef the baby cried?
Now Lizzie knows that gran'ma's there
To see that everything is right;
Yet Lizzie thinks that gran'ma's care
Ain't good enuff f'r baby, quite.
Yet what am I to answer when
She kind uv fidgets at my side,
An' asks me every now an' then,
"I wonder ef the baby cried"?
Seems like she seen two little eyes
A-pinin' f'r their mother's smile;
Seems like she heern the pleadin' cries
Uv one she thinks uv all the while;
An' so she's sorry that she come.
An' though she allus tries to hide
The truth, she'd ruther stay to hum
Than wonder ef the baby cried.
Yes, wimmin folks is all alike--
By Lizzie you kin jedge the rest;
There never wuz a little tyke,
But that his mother loved him best.
And nex' to bein' what I be--
The husband uv my gentle bride--
I'd wisht I wuz that croodlin' wee,
With Lizzie wonderin' ef I cried.
[The end]
Eugene Field's poem: Lizzie
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