A lit-tle maid weeps pit-e-ous-ly,
In dire dis-tress de-mand-ing aid;
Her pre-cious ball is up a tree,
And ev-ery boy shrinks back a-fraid.
It hangs a-loft, a shin-ing thing,
Caught by the ve-ry top-most spray,
Where slen-der branch-es ta-per-ing
'Neath the light bur-den move and sway.
Hur-rah! he comes whom all ad-mire,
Whose nim-ble legs, and lis-som back,
And read-y pluck, that naught can tire,
Win him the name of "Mon-key Jack."
See how he leaps from bough to bough
To gain that most be-lov'd of balls!
His out-stretch'd hand has caught it now;
The branch gives way--the he-ro falls!
The fright-en'd chil-dren ut-ter cries,
But e-ven yet he does his best;
His vic-tor hand re-tains the prize,
And clasps it to his faith-ful breast.
Laid on his bed, com-pos'd, though sad,
With bro-ken leg and in-jured back,
We find a lit-tle pa-tient lad,
A-las, no long-er "Mon-key Jack!"
[Illustration]
With books and toys, what-e'er is best,
His com-rades seek him, one and all,
And shy-ly peep-ing through the rest,
Poor lit-tle Ro-sa brings her ball.
Placed at the win-dow, day by day,
While pil-lows raise his wea-ry head,
His wist-ful eyes be-hold the play
Which once with joy-ous heart he led.
And in his hand the ball is laid,
And if to fling it is his whim,
The sig-nal is at once obey'd,
With ea-ger feet they run to him.
[Illustration]
But more than this they glad-ly do--
Each coin they get they save with care,
And Ro-sa brings her six-pence, too,
To swell the splen-did treas-ure there.
Mon-ey can pur-chase any-thing.
The hap-py chil-dren send to town,
And to the crip-ple's bed they bring
A sur-geon of the first re-nown.
Oh, beau-ti-ful tri-um-phant day!
When light of heart and free from pain,
The pa-tient lad has slipped away,
And "Mon-key Jack" climbs trees again!
[Illustration]
Here are a num-ber of lit-tle tots, and what do you think they are
do-ing? I think the lit-tle girl on her knees is pay-ing for-feits.