A LOST TYPE.
O for the glimpse of a natural boy, A boy with freckled face, With forehead white 'neath tangled hair, And limbs devoid of gruce, Whose* feel-, toe in while his elbows flare, Whose kneea are patched all ways, Who turns »b red as a lobßter when You give him a word of praise. A boy who was born with an appetite, Who seeks the pantry shelf, To eat his piece with reaounding sinauk j Who ian't gono on himself. ■ • A Robinson Crusoe reading boy, Whose pookets bulge with trash ; Who knows the use of rod and gun, And where the brook- trout splash. It's true he'll sit on the easiest chair, With hat on his tousled bead ; Thai his hands and feet are everything — For youth must have room to spread. But he doesn't dub his father ' old mao,' Nor deny his mother's call. Nor ridicule what his elders say, Or thinks that he knows it all. A rough and wholesome, natural boy, Of a good old-fashioned clay ; God b'efß him if he's still on earth. For he'll make a man some day.
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Bibliographic details
Mataura Ensign, Issue 17, 3 May 1895, Page 7
Word Count
186A LOST TYPE. Mataura Ensign, Issue 17, 3 May 1895, Page 7
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