By George E. Gibby
When I come home all tired out,
No pep left in my knees,
And throw myself upon the couch,
That lad begins to tease.
He takes my pencil from my coat,
My watch fob from my vest:
He smears my order book with jam
And climbs upon my chest.
He wants to ride a bucking horse
So grabs my new silk tie;
And when I see those eyes of his –
I simply have to try.
We tumble o’er the couch and floor
And make an awful noise –
Then mother says, with pleasing eyes:
“I’m glad we’re not all boys.”
I’ve seen rich men with childless wives
Grow surly, old and gray –
Ah, I am glad I have a lady
Who coaxes me to play.