 | The poetical works of John Godfrey Saxe |  |
THE KNOWING CHILD.
“L'Enfant terrible!”
“
Mais
, gardez-vous, mon cher,” she said
And then the mother smiled;
“Speak very softly, if you please,
He 's such a knowing child!”
And then the mother smiled;
“Speak very softly, if you please,
He 's such a knowing child!”
My simple sister spoke the truth;
There is n't, I suppose,
A thing on earth he should n't know
But what that urchin knows!
There is n't, I suppose,
39
But what that urchin knows!
And all he knows the younker tells
In such a knowing way;
For what he knows, you may be sure,
He does not fear to say.
In such a knowing way;
For what he knows, you may be sure,
He does not fear to say.
He knows he is an arrant churl,
Although he looks so mild;
And—worst of all—full well he knows
He is a knowing child.
Although he looks so mild;
And—worst of all—full well he knows
He is a knowing child.
He knows—I 've often told him so—
I am averse to noise;
He knows his uncle is n't fond
Of martial little boys;
I am averse to noise;
He knows his uncle is n't fond
Of martial little boys;
And that, no doubt, is why he pounds
His real soldier drum
Beneath my window, morn and night,
Until my ear is numb!
His real soldier drum
Beneath my window, morn and night,
Until my ear is numb!
He knows my age—that dreadful boy—
Exactly to a day;
He knows precisely why my locks
Have not a thread of gray.
Exactly to a day;
He knows precisely why my locks
Have not a thread of gray.
He knows—and says (what shocking talk
For one so very small!)
My head—without my curly scratch—
Looks like a billiard ball!
For one so very small!)
My head—without my curly scratch—
Looks like a billiard ball!
He knows that Mary's headache means
She does n't wish to go;
And lets the sacred secret out
Before her waiting beau!
She does n't wish to go;
And lets the sacred secret out
Before her waiting beau!
He knows why Clara always coughs
When she is asked to sing;
He knows (and blabs!) that Julia's bust
Is not the real thing!
When she is asked to sing;
He knows (and blabs!) that Julia's bust
Is not the real thing!
He knows about the baby too;
Though he has often heard
The nurse's old, convenient tale,
He don't believe a word
Though he has often heard
The nurse's old, convenient tale,
He don't believe a word
And when those ante-natal caps
Their future use disclose,
He knows again—the knowing imp—
Just what his uncle knows!
Their future use disclose,
He knows again—the knowing imp—
Just what his uncle knows!
Ah! well; no doubt, what Time may bring
'T is better not to see;
I know not what the changeful Fates
May have in store for me;
'T is better not to see;
I know not what the changeful Fates
May have in store for me;
But if within the nuptial noose
My neck should be beguiled,
Heaven save the house from childlessness
And from a knowing child!
My neck should be beguiled,
Heaven save the house from childlessness
And from a knowing child!
| The poetical works of John Godfrey Saxe | |