Classic Poem

" He sort o' favors the Sykeses, "
Says Ma, lookin' closely at me,
An' she looks up at Pa as if layin' th' law
An' a-waitin' fer him to agree.
(The Sykeses, you know, was Ma's people.)
" Jes' see that small mouth an' small chin,
I don't want to brag but he's jes' his Aunt Mag
I tell ye, right over agin. "

" Walks jes' like his Uncle Cornelius! "
( " He couldn't walk straight if he tried,
An' I had him to bail 'leven times out o' jail, "
Says Pa, in a sorter aside.)
" Swings along jes' like him, " Ma says, smilin'.
( " He orter have swung! " Pa mos' chokes,
Fer it always makes him jes' a-bilin'
When Ma claims I favor her folks.)

" Got the reg'lar Sykes disposition. "
( " An' a devil's own temper it is, "
Says Pa down beneath his breath, grittin' his teeth,
And his dander beginnin' to sizz.)
" An' his hair, well, it's jes' like Aunt Sary's,
Thet married Lige Jenks from the Mills,
An' his nose is the picter o' Mary's,
An' his brow is th' image o' Will's. "

" An' his voice, he gits that from th' Joneses,
They're cousins, you know, down in Kent;
An' I guess it mus' be from his Aunt Cicely
That he's gittin' his musical bent! "
An' Pa, well, he gits mad as thunder
An' swears like a pirate at sea,
An' says: " Thank the Lord that he's gittin' his board
And his clothes and his lodgin' from me! "