"The tune's too awful lively," said the little old woman, when she woke
up. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Now, hear me sing." And she
began, in a slow, solemn movement, the most drawling tune you ever heard,
and they all joined in the same fashion:
"Poor old Pidy,
She died last Friday:
Poor old creetur,
The turkey-buzzards----"
But before they could finish the line, while they were yet hanging to the
tails of the turkey-buzzards, so to speak, Bobby burst out with:
"La! that'th the toon the old cow died on. I wouldn't thing that."
"You wouldn't, hey?" said the woman, getting angry.
"No, I wouldn't, little dumplin'."
Whereupon the little woman got so furious that she Went fast asleep, and
the reader, growing interested and falling into a doze, tumbled off his
chair on his head, but as his head was quite soft and puttyish, it did
him no particular harm, except that the fall made him sleep more soundly
than ever.
When they had waked up again, Bobby thought it time to move on, but as
soon as he offered to move, the Sleepy-heads surrounded him and began to
sing a drawling song, which made Bobby sleepy. He soon found that they
meant to make him one of themselves, and this was not at all to his
taste.
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