A PICTURE TO PAINT

Evening Post, Volume CXXIV, Issue 87, 9 October 1937, Page 20

A PICTURE TO PAINT

brown-birds. (Cepied.) Two little brown-bird# sitting on a twig. Both very plump, ana neither very btg. "Tweet I" said the first one, "Cheep 1" Bala his brother— Wasn't that a funny way to talk to one another? Down flew one bird and picked up » crust; Off went the other to a little heap of dust: Plunged into a dustbath, all puffed put and fat; Wouldn't It, be very strange to have a_ bath like that! Both little brown-btrds, nt the set of sun, Flew Into . a big tree, because the day was done; Cuddled in a warm nest, cosy as could be; Mustn't it bo lovely sleeping in a tree? "WYNKEN" (U). THE SECRET SIGN. The boy who lives Just over the way, (When It was raluing The other day) Waved to me, Then waved again. Then flattened his nose On the window-pane; So I wavod back, And X flattened mine: And that's how we got Our secret sign . Whenever wo meet— And wo often do— I squash my nose, And ha squashes his tool THE RICKETY CHAIR. Tako care I Take carol (Says the rickety clialr); My poor old legs, My rheumaticky pegs I I'm weak at the knees, Sit gently, please.

"WHEM I WAS A BACHELOR." When I was a bachelor, X lived by myself, And all the meat X had, I put on a shelf; _ The rats and mice did lead m« such a life That I went to London to get myself a wife. Tha streets were 80 broad, and the lanes so narrow, I could not get my wife home without fl wheel-barrow; The wheel-barrow broke, my wife got a fall, Down tumbled wheelbarrow, little wife and all. Found by J °CAMBRIDGE (10). Brooklyn. little lie a-bed. (Copied.) Said the dolls to each other, with sad, sad smile; "The sun has been up for a long, long while. But still we're left In the playbox here To wait the wish of our mistress dear. Why does she sleep when the bright blue skleii Are ready to gladden her happy eyes? l Why does she leave us, who need her cares? HARK I Little Laiy Lie A-bed Is coming downstairs 1" "FAIRY STARDUST" (10). Berhampors THE MIDNIGHT MAIL. Outside my bedroom window there are ' shadows In the night, But the moon, between the houses, sends a beam of silver light; And moths go scuttling to and fro across the fairy way, To deliver elfin letters that the pixies write by day.