And we now and then have a bone, I should think That forms on a joint, or to fill up a chink.
A Sesamoid bone, or a Wormian, we call, And now we may rest, for we've told them all.
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_WHOLLY HOLE-Y_.
SEVEN million little openings, God has made upon your skin; Mouths of tiny little sewers That run everywhere, within.
And along these numerous sewers All impurities must go, That are not by other outlets, Carried off with active flow.
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When these many little openings.
We call PORES, get shut quite close, Through your frame the poison wanders, Making you feel dull and cross.
It will make your lungs grow tender, And they'll soon be sore, and cough; It will make your stomach feeble, And your head ache hard enough.
Then your heart can not be joyous, And your other organs, too, Will get weak, and be unable For the work they ought to do; Quaking nerves will groan and quiver, Weary bones be racked with pain, And you'll all the time be saying: "How can I be well again?"
HEAT and BATHING widely open All the pores, when discords dire, Quick flow out in perspiration, Quenching all the fever-fire.
Raveling out the tangled tissues, Setting free the life-blood's flow, Pouring forth the pent-up poisons, Wakening thus a healthful glow.
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_THE BREATH O' LIFE_.
Our lungs are formed of curious cells, And tubes to draw in air,-- And if we breathe quite deep and full And take our needful share, 'Twill keep our blood so red and pure, Our health so firm and true, We scarce shall know what suffering means, But joyous feel, and new.
But if we wear our clothing tight, The little cells will close, And then they cannot do their work, And thus our health we lose; Or if we breathe the air impure, 'T will give us tainted blood, While plenty, pure, sun-ripened air Will make us glad and good.
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_THE GIRLS._
Three little girls with their sun-bonnets on, Wandered out for a walk in the dew; And they tip-toed about, full of frolic and fun, While their aprons around them they drew.
But their little wet feet brought fever and cough, And their little red lips grew so thin; And their little round faces were haggard enough, O, I'm sure they'll not do it again!
Not do it, I mean, without boots that shall guard Their ankles and feet from the wet; For the care of the health brings a joyous reward, The neglect, brings us pain and regret.
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_THE TEMPERANCE CHILD._
Mamma, if you'd have me Be a temperance child, You must give me only Food that's pure and mild.
Highly-seasoned dishes Make the stomach crave Stronger things; and often Lead to drunkard's grave.
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_LISTEN, CHILDREN!_
Listen, children! when your head aches, Do not eat, but wait a meal; This will oftentimes relieve you, Making you right joyous feel.
Listen, children! when your stomach Rolls and tumbles, wait awhile; Do not eat, but drink warm water, And you'll soon be glad and smile.
Listen, children! in hot water Put your feet when you've "a cold;"
Into bed now, wrapped in blankets, And you'll soon be well, we're told.
Listen, children! perspiration Is a saving from much sin: Wash and rub, and dry well after; Thus we quell disease within.
Listen, children! when you're hungry Do not stuff you like a pig, But eat slowly and chew thorough, Lest your teeth your grave shall dig.
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_TICK-TOOK, TICK-TOCK_.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, Sings the pretty cuckoo clock; Tick-tack, tick-tack, Time flies on, but ne'er comes back.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, Sings the dainty crystal clock; Tick-tack, Tick-tack, Work and wait, and never lack.
Tick-tock, Tick-tock, Sings the old grandfather's clock, Tick-tack, tick-tack, Take and keep, the better track.
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