In winter I get up at night,
And dress by an electric light.
In summer, autumn, ay, and spring,
I have to do the self-same thing.
I have to go to bed and hear
Pianos pounding in my ear,
And hear the janitor cavort
With garbage cans within the court.
And does it not seem hard to you
That I should have these things to do?
Is it not hard for us Manhat-
Tan children in a stuffy flat?
It is very nice to think
The world is full of food and drink;
But, oh, my father says to me
They cost all of his salaree.
When I am grown to man’s estate
I shall be very proud and great;
E’en now I have no reverence,
’Cause I read comic supplements.
New York is so full of a number of kids
I’m sure pretty soon we shall be invalids.
A child should always say what’s true,
And speak when he is spoken to;
And then, when manhood’s age he strikes,
He may be boorish as he likes.