HEERD 'bout what's happened? Why o' course ye has; Baby up at Battenberg's, Hope it tain't the las'! Doctor come at eight o'clock, Rig all spleshed with clay; Dad a trampin' up the hall, Skeery? -- I sh'd say! Kind o' still 'roun' the house, Folks on tiptoe walk Tell the door is open An' we hear a squawk! Doctor whispers suthin' -- Daddy hollers: "No!" Doctor says, "Twelve pounder!" Daddy whoops out: "Sho!" Daddy -- happier'n a clam! Mother doin' well; Baby up at Battenberg's, Haven't ye heerd tell? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NORTH WIND TO DUTIFUL BEAST MIDWAY BETWEEN DIAL & FOOT OF GARDEN CLOCK by MARIANNE MOORE THE CHARGE OF THE BREAD BRIGADE by EZRA POUND WAR IS KIND: 21 by STEPHEN CRANE THE FALL OF HYPERION; A DREAM by JOHN KEATS WHITE SNOW by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE |