Page:Shingle-short-Baughan-1908.djvu/82

 Then Father’d weigh the baby, and declare we all were grown; Or he’d want the dimples counted, an’ the last new freckles shown. While close we’d cling about him, an’ fossick in his coat— “ Lollies for the kiddies”, always came in Father’s boat.

Next, he’d toss the parcel Mother always caught: Something tasty out o’ Town, down for supper brought. Hiss! Splut! Splutter!....Tending it in turn, You can guess us children never let that cooking burn!

Meanwhile, the grown-ups ’ud be carrying in the swags; There’d be diving into bundles, an’ dipping into bags.. Matches: molasses: cotton, and salt an’ such— Puzzled me how Town got on, when the Bay had took so much?

An’, all the while, they’d tell us tales—what the timber brought, Town-news, war-news, an’ what vessels lay in port; An’, Oh! the people, an’ places, an’ sights an’ all, they’d name— How big! how wonderful an’ strange!—how full the world became!