Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872-1906 / Ohio / United States)
MY muvver's ist the nicest one
'At ever lived wiz folks;
She lets you have ze mostes' fun,
An' laffs at all your jokes.
I got a ol' maid auntie, too,
The worst you ever saw;
Her eyes ist bore you through and through, —
She ain't a bit like ma.
She's ist as slim as slim can be,
An' when you want to slide
Down on ze balusters, w'y she
Says 'at she's harrified.
She ain't as nice as Uncle Ben,
What says 'at little boys
Won't never grow to be big men
Unless they're fond of noise.
But muvver's nicer zan 'em all,
She calls you, 'precious lamb,'
An' let's you roll your ten-pin ball,
An' spreads your bread wiz jam.
An' when you're bad, she ist looks sad,
You fink she's goin' to cry;
An' when she don't you're awful glad,
An' den you're good, Oh, my!
At night, she takes ze softest hand,
An' lays it on your head,
An' says 'Be off to Sleepy-Land
By way o' trundle-bed.'
So when you fink what muvver knows
An' aunts an' uncle tan't,
It skeers a feller; ist suppose
His muvver 'd been a aunt.
Comments about this poem (Appreciation by Paul Laurence Dunbar )
People who read Paul Laurence Dunbar also read
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
William Ernest Henley
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings