English poem
The Noble Old Elm
O big old tree, so tall an' fine, Where all us childern swings an' plays, Though neighbers says you're on the line Between Pa's house an' Mr. Gray's,-- Us childern used to almost fuss, Old Tree, about you when we 'd play.-- We'd argy you belonged to us, An' them Gray-kids the other way!
Till Elsie, one time she wuz here An' playin' wiv us--Don't you mind, Old Mister Tree?--an' purty near She scolded us the hardest kind Fer quar'llin' 'bout you thataway, An' say she'll find--ef we'll keep still-- Whose tree you air fer shore, she say, An' settle it fer good, she will!
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So all keep still: An' nen she gone An' pat the Old Tree, an' says she,-- "Whose air you, Tree?" an' nen let on Like she's a-list'nin' to the Tree,-- An' nen she say, "It's settled,--'cause The Old Tree says he's all our tree-- His trunk belongs to bofe your Pas, But shade belongs to you an' me."
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