Lil' Feller Poem by Margaret Elizabeth Sangster

When th.' sunshine's golden-yeller
Like th' curls upon his head,
Then he wakes - th' lil' feller -
An' he jumps up, outen bed;
An' he scrambles fer his knickers
Flung, perhaps, upon th' floor,
An' he takes his hat (my old 'un),
An' he races through th' door -
An' I hear his voice, a-singin',
In his odd, ole-fashioned way,
'Cause he's glad - th' lil' feller -
In th' mornin' o' the day.

Kinder makes me feel, well, lazy,
So I hurry up, outside,
Where th' mountains smile down, friendly -
And th' earth looks sorter wide;
An' I hear his voice a-callin',
Sayin', 'Daddy, come an' see!'
An' I find him makin' gardens
Where a rock pile uster be -
An' I shout, 'How goes it, sonny?'
An' my heart feels light an' gay,
Fer he's singin' - lil' feller -
In th' mornin' o' th' day.

Lil' feller, an' his gardens!
It don't matter much ter him,
If th' hoein's hard an' tedgious,
An' th' crop he grows is slim;
Fer he loves ter be a-workin',
An' he loves ter see things start
Outer nothin'. . . . There's a garden
In th' rock-bed o' my heart
That he's planted, just by singin'
In his odd, ole-fashioned way -
'Cause he's glad, MY LIL' FELLER,
In th' mornin' o' th' day!