Page 97—Drawing Land

The New Slate

See my slate. I dot it new
Cos I b'oke the other,
Put my 'ittle foot right froo,
Runnin' after modder.

I tan make you lots of sings,
Fass as you tan tell 'em,
T's and B's and O rings,
Only I tan't spell 'em

I tan make an elephant,
Wid his trunk a hangin';
An' a boy—who says I tan't?
Wid his dun a bangin'

An' the smoke a tummin' out;
(Wid my t'umb I do it,
Rubbin' all the white about,)
Sparks a flying froo it.

I tan make a pretty house,
Wid a tree behind it,
And a 'ittle mousey-mouse
Runnin' round to find it.

I tan put my hand out flat
On the slate and draw it;
(Ticklin' is the worst of that!)
Did you ever saw it?

Now, then, s'all I make a tree
Wid a birdie on it?
All my pictures you s'all see
If you'll wait a minute.

No, I dess I'll make a man
Juss like Uncle Rolly,
See it tummin', fass it tan!
Bet my slate is jolly!

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