**** ROTATE **** **** ROTATE **** **** ROTATE **** **** ROTATE ****

Find this Story

Print, a form you can hold

Wireless download to your Amazon Kindle

Look for a summary or analysis of this Poem.

Enjoy this? Share it!

Bud’s Fairy-Tale
by [?]

Some peoples thinks they ain’t no Fairies now
No more yet!–But they is, I bet! ‘Cause ef
They wuzn’t Fairies, nen I’ like to know
Who’d w’ite ’bout Fairies in the books, an’ tell
What Fairies does, an’ how their picture looks,
An’ all an’ ever’thing! W’y, ef they don’t
Be Fairies anymore, nen little boys
‘U’d ist sleep when they go to sleep an’ wont
Have ist no dweams at all,–‘Cause Fairies–good
Fairies–they’re a-purpose to make dweams!
But they is Fairies–an’ I know they is!
‘Cause one time wunst, when its all Summertime,
An’ don’t haf to be no fires in the stove
Er fireplace to keep warm wiv–ner don’t haf
To wear old scwatchy flannen shirts at all,
An’ aint no fweeze–ner cold–ner snow!–An’–an’
Old skweeky twees got all the gween leaves on
An’ ist keeps noddin’, noddin’ all the time,
Like they ‘uz lazy an’ a-twyin’ to go
To sleep an’ couldn’t, ’cause the wind won’t quit
A-blowin’ in ’em, an’ the birds won’t stop
A-singin’ so’s they kin.–But twees don’t sleep,
I guess! But little boys sleeps–an’ dweams, too.–
An’ that’s a sign they’s Fairies.

So, one time,
When I ben playin’ “Store” wunst over in
The shed of their old stable, an’ Ed Howard
He maked me quit a-bein’ pardners, ’cause
I dwinked the ‘tend-like sody-water up
An’ et the shore-nuff cwackers.–W’y, nen I
Clumbed over in our garden where the gwapes
Wuz purt’-nigh ripe: An’ I wuz ist a-layin’
There on th’ old cwooked seat ‘at Pa maked in
Our arber,–an’ so I ‘uz layin’ there
A-whittlin’ beets wiv my new dog-knife, an’
A-lookin’ wite up through the twimbly leaves–
An’ wuzn’t ‘sleep at all!–An’-sir!–first thing
You know, a little Fairy hopped out there!
A leetle-teenty Fairy!–hope-may-die!
An’ he look’ down at me, he did–An’ he
Ain’t bigger’n a yellerbird!–an’ he
Say “Howdy-do!” he did–an’ I could hear
Him–ist as plain!

Nen I say “Howdy-do!”
An’ he say “I’m all hunkey, Nibsey; how
Is your folks comin’ on?”

An’ nen I say
“My name ain’t ‘Nibsey,’ neever–my name’s Bud.
An’ what’s your name?” I says to him.

Ist laugh an’ say “‘Bud’s‘ awful funny name!”
An’ he ist laid back on a big bunch o’ gwapes
An’ laugh’ an’ laugh’, he did–like somebody
‘Uz tick-el-un his feet!

An’ nen I say–
“What’s your name,” nen I say, “afore you bust
Yo’-se’f a-laughin’ ’bout my name?” I says.
An’ nen he dwy up laughin’–kindo’ mad–
An’ say “W’y, my name’s Squidjicum,” he says.
An’ nen I laugh an’ say–“Gee! what a name!”
An’ when I make fun of his name, like that,
He ist git awful mad an’ spunky, an’
‘Fore you know, he ist gwabbed holt of a vine–
A big long vine ‘at’s danglin’ up there, an’
He ist helt on wite tight to that, an’ down
He swung quick past my face, he did, an’ ist
Kicked at me hard’s he could!

But I’m too quick
Fer Mr. Squidjicum! I ist weached out
An’ ketched him, in my hand–an’ helt him, too,
An’ squeezed him, ist like little wobins when
They can’t fly yet an’ git flopped out their nest.
An’ nen I turn him all wound over, an’
Look at him clos’t, you know–wite clos’t,–’cause ef
He is a Fairy, w’y, I want to see
The wings he’s got–But he’s dwessed up so fine
‘At I can’t see no wings.–An’ all the time
He’s twyin’ to kick me yet: An’ so I take
F’esh holts an’ squeeze agin–an’ harder, too;
An’ I says, “Hold up, Mr. Squidjicum!
You’re kickin’ the w’ong man!” I says; an’ nen
I ist squeeze’ him, purt’-nigh my best, I did–
An’ I heerd somepin’ bust!–An’ nen he cwied
An’ says, “You better look out what you’re doin’!–
You’ bust’ my spiderweb-suspen’ners, an’
You’ got my woseleaf-coat all cwinkled up
So’s I can’t go to old Miss Hoodjicum’s
Tea-party, ‘s’afternoon!”