Poem: “Story Telling” by Edgar A. Guest

A Heap o’ Livin’

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American Literature – American Poetry – Edgar A. Guest – Poems by Edgar A. Guest – A Heap o’ Livin’
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Story Telling

Most every night when they’re in bed,
  And both their little prayers have said,
  They shout for me to come upstairs
  And tell them tales of gypsies bold,
  And eagles with the claws that hold
  A baby’s weight, and fairy sprites
  That roam the woods on starry nights.

  And I must illustrate these tales,
  Must imitate the northern gales
  That toss the Indian’s canoe,
  And show the way he paddles, too.
  If in the story comes a bear,
  I have to pause and sniff the air
  And show the way he climbs the trees
  To steal the honey from the bees.

  And then I buzz like angry bees
  And sting him on his nose and knees
  And howl in pain, till mother cries:
  “That pair will never shut their eyes,
  While all that noise up there you make;
  You’re simply keeping them awake.”
  And then they whisper: “Just one more,”
  And once again I’m forced to roar.

  New stories every night they ask.
  And that is not an easy task;
  I have to be so many things,
  The frog that croaks, the lark that sings,
  The cunning fox, the frightened hen;
  But just last night they stumped me, when
  They wanted me to twist and squirm
  And imitate an angle worm.

  At last they tumble off to sleep,
  And softly from their room I creep
  And brush and comb the shock of hair
  I tossed about to be a bear.
  Then mother says: “Well, I should say
  You’re just as much a child as they.”
  But you can bet I’ll not resign
  That story telling job of mine.

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American Literature – American Poetry – Edgar A. Guest – Poems by Edgar A. Guest – A Heap o’ Livin’

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Story Telling

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