5 Zoro

 

Tas very kind to leave behind,

For me that cosy shelter.
In growing old, I’ve got a cold,

And O! the rain does pelt-a

Fellow so,” croak’d father
frog—

“How sore my throat is
getting,

It must have been that fog,
I ween,

That gave me such a wet-
ting.”

 

Then, just as he slept cosily,
A sad mishap befell, a
Boy came by, and shouted Hi!

Here’s mother’s lost umbrella ! ”
Helen Marion Burnside.