 | Songs for little people |  |
35
The Bad Boy
Once a little round-eyed lad
Determined to be very bad.
Determined to be very bad.
He called his porridge nasty pap,
And threw it all in nurse's lap.
And threw it all in nurse's lap.
His gentle sister's cheek he hurt,
He smudged his pinny in the dirt.
He smudged his pinny in the dirt.
He found the bellows, and he blew
The pet canary right in two!
The pet canary right in two!
And when he went to bed at night
He would not say his prayers aright.
He would not say his prayers aright.
This pained a lovely twinkling star
That watched the trouble from afar.
That watched the trouble from afar.
She told her bright-faced friends, and soon
The dreadful rumour reached the moon.
The dreadful rumour reached the moon.
36
The moon, a gossiping old dame,
Told Father Sun the bad boy's shame.
Told Father Sun the bad boy's shame.
And then the giant sun began
A very satisfactory plan.
A very satisfactory plan.
Upon the naughty rebel's face
He would not pour his beamy grace.
He would not pour his beamy grace.
He would not stroke the dark-brown strands
With entertaining shiny hands.
With entertaining shiny hands.
The little garden of the boy
Seemed desert, missing heaven's joy.
Seemed desert, missing heaven's joy.
But all his sister's tulips grew
Magnificent with shine and dew.
Magnificent with shine and dew.
Where'er he went he found a shade,
But light was poured upon the maid.
But light was poured upon the maid.
He also lost, by his disgrace,
That indoors sun, his mother's face.
That indoors sun, his mother's face.
His father sent him up to bed
With neither kiss nor pat for head.
With neither kiss nor pat for head.
37
And in his sleep he had such foes,
Bad fairies pinched his curling toes—
Bad fairies pinched his curling toes—
They bit his ears, they pulled his hairs,
They threw him three times down the stairs.
They threw him three times down the stairs.
O little boys who would not miss
A father's and a mother's kiss,
A father's and a mother's kiss,
Who would not cause a sister pain,
Who want the sun to shine again,
Who want the sun to shine again,
Who want sweet beams to tend the plot
Where grows the pet forget-me-not,
Where grows the pet forget-me-not,
Who hate a life of streaming eyes,
Be good, be merry, and be wise.
Be good, be merry, and be wise.
| Songs for little people | |