Bertha is \u2018Mom\u2019 in this poem. She married Clayton Hermans (\u2018Pop\u2019), son of Jacob Luther Hermans 1841-1924, the \u2018Grampy\u2019 and \u2018Uncle Jake\u2019 of the poem. William and Florence did not have any children of their own (1920 & 1930 census)<\/em> as did many of Florence\u2019s siblings, which might explain why he doted on his nieces and nephew so much.<\/p>\n My grandfather Walter Clayton Hermans 1915-1994 and his sisters Madge Julia Hermans Snedeker Petty and Louise Hermans Johnson Weiss are the \u2018cute little tots\u2019.<\/p>\n One Beautiful Dream<\/strong><\/p>\n I am dreaming of a homestead upon a little hill Those actions as I saw her, knew they were a mother\u2019s love And when the twilight\u2019s ended and those shadows come again When the dawn did come at last with cloudy skies once more Nature\u2019s mantle so fine and soft lay there, yes, \u2019tis but a dream In Mom\u2019s haste to find those things in nooks and places galore Walt was out without his hat, Madge without her rubbers Great fun they were having scampering to and fro with glee After their troubles were over and the doctor went his way The days were getting longer now and outside they again did roam Climbing rickety old fences, tearing stockings and shoes Madge you come right in this house, you also Louise Helping Grampy feed the chickens, then those eggs they\u2019d steal Wading in the creek, coming home with wet feet Finding of old dead sparrows, burying them with pomp Riding horses down the road just for their usual drink Playing hide and seek around the house, shed and barn Romping around the homestead, just doing as they please Chasing chickens from the road, sliding down the hay No they didn\u2019t hunt for snakes, but they might have stoned some frogs I know there were a bunch of sheep down on that farm Now remember folks some of this, \u2018tis not a dream When I used to visit them, mornings I\u2019d lay late in bed And when I speak of Uncle Jake, who long has passed away My thoughts are often about him, I can see him on his farm
\nWhere I visited very often, but seldom against my will
\nA mother standing by the door and shading eyes with hands
\nPeering up and down the sunny roads and across the woody lands<\/p>\n
\nAlways a prayer upon her lips to one who is above
\nEver anxious to see or hear the pattering of small feet
\nAll the time worrying that an accident they should meet<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/44parkave.com\/holdernewt\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/11\/Hermans-Walter-Madge-Louise-and-puppies-4x6-2.jpg\" "\\"Hermans-Walter")
<\/a>Walter, Madge and Louise<\/strong><\/p>\n
\nI can hear those childish chatters, just before the sandman came
\nWhen suddenly as if by magic you couldn\u2019t hear a peep
\nThen Mom\u2019s cares are over, as they all are fast asleep<\/p>\n
\nAgain was heard the pattering feet upon the bed-room floor
\nNot dreaming of the outside world, which sure was a sight
\nWhen looking out upon the ground, it was their great delight<\/p>\n
\nSpreading oe\u2019r the woody lands and that hilly road did screen
\nOh Mom, where\u2019s our rubbers and our sleds we cannot find
\nOh dear, please hurry Mom this weather is divine<\/p>\n
\nSome squeals or childish laughter were coming thru the door
\nWhen looking out into the snow, goodness, lo and behold
\nStood Louise in snow up to her knees and Madge and Walt as bold<\/p>\n
\nLouise was stunting in the snow which that night did cause some blubbers
\nMom was getting desperate, she didn\u2019t know what to say
\nSo took a chance upon them once and outside they did play<\/p>\n
\nNot thinking of the night of sniffles and coughs that would surely be
\nWhat a busy night for Mom and Dad, including Grampy too.
\nRubbing goose-oil and mustard on some chests and praying they\u2019d pull thru<\/p>\n<\/a>Jacob Luther “Jake” Hermans 1841-1924 with Louise and Madge c. 1914<\/strong><\/p>\n
\nOnce more Mom\u2019s heart beats quieted down as in the house they play
\nCutting funny pictures from books and placing blocks in stacks
\nDressing dolls, scribbling in books and mauling those poor cats<\/p>\n
\nTraveling over the woods and fields, but at meal-time sure came home
\nPestering the chickens and turkeys, poking at a pig
\nIf they saw a ground-hog, boy, wouldn\u2019t he have to dig<\/p>\n
\nRushing around that farm at anything they choose
\nTeasing the fat old gobbler, making him puff and swell
\nRaising the dickens all over till Mom gave her famous yell<\/p>\n
\nNow Walter\u2019s crying, is it right of you girls to tease
\nOh Mom, we didn\u2019t bother him, just wanted him to play
\nBut he had to go and beller because he slipped from off the hay<\/p>\n
\nMooing to the pig pen when those pigs let out a squeal
\nShooing pigeons from the roof, as they take their rest
\nBut keeping their distance from hornets, which they knew was best<\/p>\n
\nDoing the most impossible stunts, most people wouldn\u2019t seek
\nChasing grass-hoppers and butterflies, sliding down the cellar door
\nGoing to Mom with splintered fingers, next day they\u2019d have some more<\/p>\n
\nCrying over an old rag-doll that a picker wouldn\u2019t want
\nLeaving carts and dolly carriages out in the path
\nAlong comes Pop, hits one, then shows a little wrath<\/p>\n<\/a>Walter, Madge and Louise (with cat in lower left)<\/strong><\/p>\n
\nMaking guinea-fowls noisy and things you wouldn\u2019t think
\nHugging and pinching the puppy\u2019s tails until they set up wails
\nDoing everything imaginable, probably cans attached to tails<\/p>\n
\nStepping on the kitten\u2019s tails and didn\u2019t give a darn
\nLeaving the screen door open, throwing sand in each others eyes
\nWhen Mom comes down from the up-stairs, the house was full of flies<\/p>\n
\nRunning close to hives out front, then getting stung by bees
\nClimbing that old apple-tree, skinning a few shins
\nThe crawling home again at night with all but broken limbs<\/p>\n
\nPunching holes in screen-doors so flies could have their say
\nTramping over to the woods, gathering nuts and flowers
\nSneaking upon setting hens and getting soak in showers<\/p>\n
\nThen coming home with sloppy clothes, in trying to cross those bogs
\nTwisting the calves\u2019 tails so as to hear them bawl
\nThey were afraid of nothing, these kids sure had gall<\/p>\n
\nAnd I think they were the only ones that didn\u2019t come to harm
\nThe reason no harm came to them was on account of their lope
\nBut if they couldn\u2019t get a sheep they\u2019d surely get your goat<\/p>\n
\nI used to go there sometimes and this is what I\u2019d seen
\nYou see at that time they were such cute little tots
\nYou couldn\u2019t help but like them and I did lots<\/p>\n
\nThey used to come like crazy Indians and leap upon your head
\nSleep then was a thing of the past, you sure would get your digs
\nAnd then on top of all of that, Uncle Jake would feed the pigs<\/p>\n
\nAnd his love he had for others, I remember to this day
\nWe are all slipping just like he, we\u2019ll have no used for skids
\nHe was devoted to you all, when you were little kids<\/p>\n
\nThat good old soul was as fine as gold and with a certain charm
\nIf you got into trouble, some scrape or some jams
\nNo matter how it came out, you were his blessed little lambs<\/p>\n