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 "Little skinny shoulder-blades Sticking through your clothes! And where you'll get a jacket from God above knows.

"It's lucky for me, lad, Your daddy's in the ground, And can't see the way I let His son go around!" And she made a queer sound.

That was in the late fall. When the winter came, I'd not a pair of breeches Nor a shirt to my name.

I couldn't go to school, Or out of doors to play. And all the other little boys Passed our way.

"Son," said my mother, "Come, climb into my lap, And I'll chafe your little bones While you take a nap."