When papa was a little boy you really couldn’t find
In all the country round about a child so quick to mind.
His mother never called but once, and he was always there;
He never made the baby cry or pulled his sister’s hair.
He never slid down banisters or made the slightest noise,
And never in his life was known to fight with other boys.
He always rose at six o’clock and went to bed at eight,
And never lay abed till noon; and never sat up late.
He finished Latin, French and Greek when he was ten year old,
And knew the Spanish alphabet as soon as he was told.
He never, never thought of play until his work was done,
He labored hard from break of day until the set of sun.
He never scraped his muddy shoes upon the parlor floor,
And never answered, back his ma, and never banged the door.
“But, truly, I could never see,” said little Dick Molloy,
“How he could never do these things and really be a boy.”