And over by Skinner’s a big hawk flew by And lit on a stump that was not very high, But didn’t see us and we crawled up quite slow Through the grass to the stump with a big stone to throw; And Billy Beggs said that the hawk was asleep For it never stirred once; and the grass was so deep That we got to within a few feet from the stump, And Billy Beggs peeked, and his heart gave a thump; And when he got ever and ever so close He stood up and threw and he hit it--almost!
And then it got cloudy and thundered and then It lightened just awful and thundered again; It rained some big drops and we started to run To get in the barn till the shower was done; And lightning just spattered and crackled and flashed And we were all scared as could be, and we splashed All through mud and water, and then a big crack Of lightning came down and Bill Beggs hollered back From ’way up ahead, just as pale as a ghost, And said that last lightning had struck him--almost!
And over by Griggs’s somebody came out And hollered to us when we’re all just about So tired we could drop, and they took us right in By the big kitchen fire ’cause we’re wet to the skin; And Mrs. Griggs gave us some blankets to wear While all of our clothes were hung over a chair; And she made some tea till she got us warmed through And then the storm stopped and the sky got all blue; And Billy Beggs told her the flash came so close That he ’membered the whole of the Lord’s Prayer--almost!
School’s out, and homeward with the ebbing day They come--Tom Jones, Jim Brooks and Eddie Gray; And half a million others far or near, Not much unlike the boys I know right here; With empty dinnerpails and schoolbooks slung Across their shoulders by a strap. The tongue Of boyhood at the kitchen door gives cry: “Ma, can’t I have a doughnut, or some pie?” For, say, the appetite of boys is prime And cannot be content till suppertime.
’Tis four o’clock, and I can hear them go-- A million youngsters--homeward, fast and slow; The drowsy schoolroom clock has dragged its hands Across its face until Time’s signal stands At long-awaited four--that blessed hour When schoolbooks close and teachers lose the power That despot rulers have--and flags unfurled Lead schoolboy armies to a waiting world! And up the back steps bound returning feet: “Ma, can’t I go and get a bite to eat?”