 | Short poems for short people |  |
78
OUR BENNY.
A song for our Benny, our fine five-year-older,
Our imp of all mischief and fun,
With plump little arm and with pink little shoulder
And ringlets that rival the sun.
Our imp of all mischief and fun,
With plump little arm and with pink little shoulder
And ringlets that rival the sun.
A song for our Benny who never is quiet,
Our wild, unrestrainable lad,
The spirit of clamor and frolic and riot,
The vixen of all that is bad.
Our wild, unrestrainable lad,
The spirit of clamor and frolic and riot,
The vixen of all that is bad.
A song for our Benny, and grave be the verses
Wherein his dark deeds we enroll;
How right from his heart he abominates nurses
And grandly disdains their control.
Wherein his dark deeds we enroll;
How right from his heart he abominates nurses
And grandly disdains their control.
A song for our Benny, tormentor of Baby,
A true household terror, I vow;
So bad that one shudders to think what he may be,
A Nero in petticoats now.
A true household terror, I vow;
So bad that one shudders to think what he may be,
A Nero in petticoats now.
A song for our Benny, whose bad acts are thirty
To one that is good, all declare;
With face and with hands irreclaimably dirty,
And tangled, uncombable hair.
To one that is good, all declare;
With face and with hands irreclaimably dirty,
And tangled, uncombable hair.
79
A song for our Benny; 't is certain we owe him
A whipping—that matter 's quite clear;
And yet ... I defy any mortal to know him
And not fall in love with the dear!
A whipping—that matter 's quite clear;
And yet ... I defy any mortal to know him
And not fall in love with the dear!
| Short poems for short people | |