Poems of Eugene Field
|61.||Chrystmasse of Olde||1/1/2004|
|63.||Cobbler and Stork||3/31/2012|
|69.||Dear Old London||4/9/2010|
|70.||Der mann im keller||1/1/2004|
|75.||Echoes from the Sabine Farm||4/9/2010|
|79.||Fame _vs._ Riches||4/9/2010|
It's June ag'in, an' in my soul I feel the fillin' joy
That's sure to come this time o' year to every little boy;
For, every June, the Sunday-schools at picnics may be seen,
Where "fields beyont the swellin' floods stand dressed in livin' green";
Where little girls are skeered to death with spiders, bugs, and ants,
An' little boys get grass-stains on their go-to meetin' pants.
It's June ag'in, an' with it all what happiness is mine -
There's goin' to be a picnic, an' I'm goin' to jine!