To My Boys Four

Generation One	Generation Two	Generation Three	Generation Four	Generation Five
Richard Ormsby	John Ormsby	John Ormsby	Samuel Ormsby	Nathaniel Ormsby

Generation Six	Generation Seven	Generation Eight
Samuel Ormsby	Lysander Ormsby	Alvin L. Ormsby

TO MY BOYS FOUR

***

The breezes whisper in the oaks.
Two boys play near the swing.
The sunbeams kiss their bonny curs,
Their happy voices ring.

Wee Bradddie, he of winsome ways,
Runs quickly to my side,
Lisps, "Gwamma, please a minute come,
Give Bwaddie jus' won wide."

Then Alvin, in his manly tone,
Says, "Won't you come and see
How I can use my little tools?
"Sure, there's some class in me!"

Our darling Dick we'll not forget,
He too must join you here,
So run out to the hammock, Brad.
Bring Muttie, that's a dear.

But there's another boy besides.
He's taller than you all.
You call him Daddie, sometimes Scott,
To me he's always small.

Go bring him too, to join you three,
Run, there, he's at the door.
Join hands, you boys, 'round Dickie's cab,
See, Grandma now has four.

Sept. 2, 1912