A Diverted Tragedy

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Gracie wuz allus a _careless_ tot;
  But Gracie dearly loved her doll,
  An' played wiv it on the winder-sill
  'Way up-stairs, when she ought to _not_,
  An' her muvver _telled_ her so an' all;
  But she won't _mind_ what _she_ say--till,
  First thing she know, her dolly fall
  Clean spang out o' the winder plumb
  Into the street! An' here Grace come
  Down-stairs, two at a time, ist wild
  An' a-screamin', "Oh, my child! my child!"

  Jule wuz a-bringin' their basket o' clo'es
  Ist then into their hall down there,--
  An' she ist stop' when Gracie bawl,
  An' Jule she say "She ist declare
  She's ist in time!" An' what you s'pose?
  She sets her basket down in the hall,
  An' wite on top o' the snowy clo'es
  Wuz Gracie's dolly a-layin' there
  An' ist ain't bu'st ner hurt a-tall!

  Nen Gracie smiled--ist _sobbed_ an' smiled--
  An' cried, "My child! my precious child!"

© James Whitcomb Riley