The Gladdest Time

From the Rock Island Argus, March 27, 1913.
 By S. E. Kiser.
 

 I like it in the morning when
     The sun shines in across my bed
 And seems to kind of whisper then
     “Get up, you little sleepy head,”
 And just outside my window, where
     A limb sticks upward from a tree
 The sparrows often sit and stare
     And nod their heads and chirp at me.
 
 I like it in the evening when
     The sounds all seem so far away,
 And all the men go home again
     Who had to work so hard all day,
 For then my muvver always sings
     And dresses in her nicest gown,
 And soon we’ll hear the train that brings
     My papa back to us from town.
 
 I like it best on Sunday, when
     We don’t get up till very late,
 Because the maid’s so weary then
     And has to sleep till nearly eight,
 And after we’ve had breakfast, why,
     My papa doesn’t start away,
 But stays at home, and he and I
     Keep all the house upset all day.