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Edgar Guest - The Good Little Boy
Work rating: Medium

Once there was a boy who never
Tore his clothes, or hardly ever,
Never made his sister mad,
Never whipped fer bein` bad,
Never scolded by his Ma,
Never frowned at by his Pa,
Always fit fer folks to see,
Always good as good could be.

This good little boy from Heaven,
So I`m told, was only seven,
Yet he never shed real tears
When his mother scrubbed his ears,
An` at times when he was dressed
Fer a party, in his best,
He was careful of his shirt
Not to get it smeared with dirt.

Used to study late at night,
Learnin` how to read an` write;
When he played a baseball game,
Right away he always came
When his mother called him in.
An` he never made a din
But was quiet as a mouse
when they`d comp`ny in the house.

Liked to wash his hands an` face,
Liked to work around the place;
Never, when he`d tired of play,
Left his wagon in the way,
Or his bat an` ball around—
Put `em where they could be found;
An` that good boy married Ma,
An` to-day he is my Pa.
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