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The Raggedy Man

O the Raggedy Man!

He works fer Pa;     An' he's the goodest man ever you saw!     He comes to our house every day,     An' waters the horses, an' feeds 'em hay;     An' he opens the shed — an' we all ist laugh     When he drives out our little old wobble-ly calf;     An' nen — ef our hired girl says he can —     He milks the cow fer 'Lizabuth Ann. —       Ain't he a' awful good Raggedy Man?        Raggedy!

Raggedy!

Raggedy Man!    W'y,

The Raggedy Man — he's ist so good,    He splits the kindlin' an' chops the wood;    An' nen he spades in our garden, too,    An' does most things 'at boys can't do. —    He clumbed clean up in our big tree    An' shooked a' apple down fer me —    An' 'nother 'n', too, fer 'Lizabuth Ann —    An' 'nother 'n', too, fer The Raggedy Man. —      Ain't he a' awful kind Raggedy Man?        Raggedy!

Raggedy!

Raggedy Man!    An' The Raggedy Man one time say he    Pick' roast' rambos from a' orchurd-tree,    An' et 'em — all ist roast' an' hot! —    An' it's so, too! — 'cause a corn-crib got    Afire one time an' all burn' down    On "The Smoot Farm," 'bout four mile from town —    On "The Smoot Farm"!

Yes — an' the hired han'    'At worked there nen 'uz The Raggedy Man! —      Ain't he the beatin'est Raggedy Man?        Raggedy!

Raggedy!

Raggedy Man!    The Raggedy Man's so good an' kind    He'll be our "horsey," an' "haw" an' mind    Ever'thing 'at you make him do —    An' won't run off — 'less you want him to!    I drived him wunst way down our lane    An' he got skeered, when it 'menced to rain,    An' ist rared up an' squealed and run    Purt' nigh away! — an' it's all in fun!    Nen he skeered ag'in at a' old tin can…      Whoa! y' old runaway Raggedy Man!        Raggedy!

Raggedy!

Raggedy Man!    An' The Raggedy Man, he knows most rhymes,    An' tells 'em, ef I be good, sometimes:    Knows 'bout Giunts, an' Griffuns, an' Elves,    An' the Squidgicum-Squees 'at swallers the'rselves:    An', wite by the pump in our pasture-lot,    He showed me the hole 'at the Wunks is got,    'At lives 'way deep in the ground, an' can    Turn into me, er 'Lizabuth Ann!    Er Ma, er Pa, er The Raggedy Man!      Ain't he a funny old Raggedy Man?        Raggedy!

Raggedy!

Raggedy Man!    An' wunst, when The Raggedy Man come late,    An' pigs ist root' thue the garden-gate,    He 'tend like the pigs 'uz bears an' said,    "Old Bear-shooter'll shoot 'em dead!"    An' race' an' chase' 'em, an' they'd ist run    When he pint his hoe at 'em like it's a gun    An' go "Bang! — Bang!" nen 'tend he stan'    An' load up his gun ag'in!

Raggedy Man!      He's an old Bear-shooter Raggedy Man!        Raggedy!

Raggedy!

Raggedy Man!    An' sometimes The Raggedy Man lets on    We're little prince-children, an' old King's gone    To git more money, an' lef' us there —    And Robbers is ist thick ever'where;    An' nen — ef we all won't cry, fer shore —    The Raggedy Man he'll come and "'splore    The Castul-halls," an' steal the "gold" —    An' steal us, too, an' grab an' hold    An' pack us off to his old "Cave"! — An'      Haymow's the "cave" o' The Raggedy Man! —        Raggedy!

Raggedy!

Raggedy Man!    The Raggedy Man — one time, when he    Wuz makin' a little bow-'n'-orry fer me,    Says "When you're big like your Pa is,    Air you go' to keep a fine store like his —    An' be a rich merchunt — an' wear fine clothes? —    Er what air you go' to be, goodness knows?"    An' nen he laughed at 'Lizabuth Ann,    An' I says "'M go' to be a Raggedy Man! —      I'm ist go' to be a nice Raggedy Man!"        Raggedy!

Raggedy!

Raggedy Man!

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James Whitcomb Riley

James Whitcomb Riley (October 7, 1849 – July 22, 1916) was an American writer, poet, and best-selling author. During his lifetime he was known a…

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