The Lost Purse By Edgar Albert Guest

The Lost Purse

I remember the excitement and the terrible alarm
That worried everybody when William broke his arm;
An’ how frantic Pa and Ma got only jes’ the other day
When they couldn’t find the baby coz he’d up an’ walked away;
But I’m sure there’s no excitement that our house has ever shook
Like the times Ma can’t remember where she’s put her pocketbook.

When the laundry man is standin’ at the door an’ wants his pay
Ma hurries in to get it, an’ the fun starts right away.
She hustles to the sideboard, coz she knows exactly where
She can put her hand right on it, but alas! it isn’t there.
She tries the parlor table an’ she goes upstairs to look,
An’ once more she can’t remember where she put her pocketbook.

She tells us that she had it just a half an hour ago,
An’ now she cannot find it though she’s hunted high and low;
She’s searched the kitchen cupboard an’ the bureau drawers upstairs,
An’ it’s not behind the sofa nor beneath the parlor chairs.
She makes us kids get busy searching every little nook,
An’ this time says she’s certain that she’s lost her pocketbook.

She calls Pa at the office an’ he laughs I guess, for then
She always mumbles something ’bout the heartlessness of men.
She calls to mind a peddler who came to the kitchen door,
An’ she’s certain from his whiskers an’ the shabby clothes he wore
An’ his dirty shirt an’ collar that he must have been a crook,
An’ she’s positive that feller came and got her pocketbook.

But at last she allus finds it in some queer an’ funny spot,
Where she’d put it in a hurry, an’ had somehow clean forgot;
An’ she heaves a sigh of gladness, an’ she says, ‘Well, I declare,
I would take an oath this minute that I never put it there.’
An’ we’re peaceable an’ quiet till next time Ma goes to look
An’ finds she can’t remember where she put her pocketbook.

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