Read "The Sunday-School Picnic" by Joseph C. Lincoln online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
Oh! the horns are all a-tootin' as we rattle through the town, / And we fellers are a-hootin' and a-jumpin' up and down, / And the girls are all a-gigglin' and a-tryin' ter be smart, / With their braided pig-tails wigglin' at the joltin' of the cart; / There's the teachers all a-beamin', rigged up in their Sunday clothes, / And the parson's specs a-gleamin' like two moons acrost his nose, / And the sup'rintendent lookin' mighty dignerfied and cool, / And a-bossin' of the picnic of the Baptist Sunday-school.
Everybody's got their basket brimmin' full of things ter eat, / And I've got one -- if yer ask it -- that is purty hard ter beat, -- / 'Cept that Sis put in some pound-cake that she made herself alone, / And I bet yer never found cake that was quite so much like stone. / There'll be quarts of sass'parilla; yes, and "lemmo" in a tub; / There'll be ice-cream -- it's vernilla -- and all kinds of fancy grub; / And they're sure ter spread the table on the ground beside the spring, / So's the ants and hoppergrasses can just waltz on everything.