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Edgar Guest - Sticky Fingers
Work rating: Low

Wife says that I should be ashamed 
To wear such garments as I do, 
Full many a time has she exclaimed: 
"A month ago that suit was new, 
Now look at all the dreadful stains
That mar the coat and spoil the vest; 
It seems to me if you`d take pains
Your clothing wouldn`t get so messed."

But I am proud of all those stains,
I do not care for garments clean, 
For every shining mark explains
Where sticky little hands have been; 
Each smudge is but a symbol of
A roguish youngster`s fond caress, 
A badge of trusting, constant love,
A token of real happiness.

I may be careless in my way,
Perhaps my clothes are a disgrace, 
But when that baby comes to play
And holds me in her fond embrace 
I love her sticky fingers more
Than any tailored suit of mine, 
And she may thumb my garments o`er,
For every spot she leaves is fine.

I wish no spotless coat and vest,
If baby hands I have to check; 
It matters not how I am dressed,
I want her arms about my neck. 
Yes, finger-marked my clothes may be,
But they are marks I`m proudest of, 
Let sticky fingers come to me
And stamp me with their seals of love.
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