The Little Mother.
BY M.M.D. Now, Dolly, dear, I’m going- away. I want you to be good all day. Don’t lose your shoes, nor soil' your dress, Nor get your hair all In a mess: But sit quite still, and I will come And kiss yon soon as I get home. 1 d take you. dear, but thou you know. It's Wilhelmina's turn to go. She’s sick, I’m afraid; her eyes don't work; They open worse the more I jerk. She used to be so straight and stout, But now her sawdust's running out. Her arm is out of order, dear— My papa says-she’s "out of gear." That's dreadful, isn’t It? But then The air may make her well again. So, Dolly, you’ll be glad, I know, To have poor Wilhelmina go. Good-by, my precious; I must run— Tomorrow we’ll have lots of fun.
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/NZGRAP19020927.2.88
Bibliographic details
New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXIX, Issue XIII, 27 September 1902, Page 824
Word Count
144The Little Mother. New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXIX, Issue XIII, 27 September 1902, Page 824
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Acknowledgements
This material was digitised in partnership with Auckland Libraries. You can find high resolution images on Kura Heritage Collections Online.
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