Friday, February 3, 2012

"Little Orphant Annie" by James Whitcomb Riley


By James Whitcomb Riley (1885)

First titled The Elf Child, Riley later renamed the poem Little Orphant Allie  in honor of an orphan by the same name who had once lived in his childhood home. A copy error changed "Allie" to "Annie," and the poem remains such today.


Little Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay,

An' wash the cups an' saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away,




An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep,




An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'-keep;




An' all us other childern, when the supper-things is done,




We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun




A-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about,




An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you




Ef you




Don't




Watch




Out!








Wunst they wuz a little boy wouldn't say his prayers,--




An' when he went to bed at night, away up-stairs,




His Mammy heerd him holler, an' his Daddy heerd him bawl,




An' when they turn't the kivvers down, he wuzn't there at all!




An' they seeked him in the rafter-room, an' cubby-hole, an' press,




An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' ever'-wheres, I guess;




But all they ever found wuz thist his pants an' roundabout:--




An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you




Ef you




Don't




Watch




Out!








An' one time a little girl 'ud allus laugh an' grin,




An' make fun of ever' one, an' all her blood-an'-kin;




An' wunst, when they was "company," an' ole folks wuz there,




She mocked 'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she didn't care!




An' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an' hide,




They wuz two great big Black Things a-standin' by her side,




An' they snatched her through the ceilin' 'fore she knowed what she's about!




An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you




Ef you




Don't




Watch




Out!








An' little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue,




An' the lamp-wick sputters, an' the wind goes woo-oo!




An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray,




An' the lightnin'-bugs in dew is all squenched away,--




You better mind yer parunts, an' yer teachurs fond an' dear,




An' churish them 'at loves you, an' dry the orphant's tear,




An' he'p the pore an' needy ones 'at clusters all about,




Er the Gobble-uns 'll git you




Ef you




Don't




Watch




Out!



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