Little Kid Cute One
Poem By Robert Kirkland Kernighan
So Little Kid Cute One died one night,
Arid he, next morning, early and bright,
With little bare feet, unused to plod,
Crept up the hill to the gates of God.
Timid he was in the stranger lands ;
He tapped on the bars with his tender hands :
His tears stood thick on their auburn thatch
A great archangel lifted the latch.
He held the hands of the little lad :
His eyes were full, and his heart was glad ;
He asked the pilgrim, ' Who may you be? '
' I 'm ittle Kid Cute One, sir,' said he.
And all the angels who stood around,
Laughed with a joyous and pleasant sound ;
They patted his curls and kissed his lips,
They touched his eyes with their finger tips
A mother angel, with hallowed head,
Came with a needle and bunch of thread ;
She combed his hair, and she wiped his nose,
She washed his feet and mended his clothes ;
Then asked him up where the children go ;
But he shook his curls and said, ' Ah, no,
I '11 wait till momma sail come fer me,
Fer ittle Kid Cute One 's lost,' quoth he.
They built him a house beside the gate,
And he was happy from morn till late ;
They gave him a job to keep the bolt
Of the stall where dwelt the ass's colt,
That carried our Savior once below,
In angry ages of long ago.
He curried his coat with a tomtit's toes ;
He brushed him down with a big red rose,
And oft he 'd canter the colt abroad,
Across the blossoming fields of God ;
And school-boy angels would cry, ' Hurrah ! '
Whenever they little Kid Cute One saw.
But soon a mother, in anxious plight,
Asked, ' Where is my long lost boy to-night? '
They brought her in where the cherub lay
Smiling asleep, on the scented hay ;
She drew his head on her gentle arm,
And covered his curls with kisses warm ;
He woke and looked in her beaming eyes,
And smiled a smile that was weal and wise ;
He whispered a kiss with sweet lips deft :
' Ittle Kid Cute One never dits left ! '
The mother sobbed on reverent knee :
' I knew my baby would cherished be,
For of such is the kingdom of God,' said she.