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Edgar Guest - Dinner-Time
Work rating: Low

Tuggin` at your bottle,
  An` it`s O, you`re mighty sweet!
Just a bunch of dimples
  From your top-knot to your feet,
Lying there an` gooin`
  In the happiest sort o` way,
Like a rosebud peekin` at me
  In the early hours o` day;
Gloating over goodness
  That you know an` sense an` clutch,
An` smilin` at your daddy,
  Who loves you, O, so much!

Tuggin` at your bottle,
  As you nestle in your crib,
With your daddy grinnin` at you
  `Cause you`ve dribbled on your bib,
An` you gurgle an` you chortle
  Like a brook in early Spring;
An` you kick your pink feet gayly,
  An` I think you`d like to sing.
All you wanted was your dinner,
  Daddy knew it too, you bet!
An` the moment that you got it
  Then you ceased to fuss an` fret.

Tuggin` at your bottle,
  Not a care, excepting when
You lose the rubber nipple,
  But you find it soon again;
An` the gurglin` an` the gooin`
  An` the chortlin` start anew,
An` the kickin` an` the squirmin`
  Show the wondrous joy o` you.
But I`ll bet you`re not as happy
  At your dinner, little tot,
As the weather-beaten daddy
  Who is bendin` o`er your cot!
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