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More poems by Ogden NashOgden Nash | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments | Books by Ogden NashBooks by Ogden Nash

To A Small Boy Standing On My Shoes While I Am Wearing Them

Ogden Nash

Let's straighten this out, my little man,
And reach an agreement if we can.
I entered your door as an honored guest.
My shoes are shined and my trousers are pressed,
And I won't stretch out and read you the funnies
And I won't pretend that we're Easter bunnies.
If you must get somebody down on the floor,
What in the hell are your parents for?
I do not like the things that you say
And I hate the games that you want to play.
No matter how frightfully hard you try,
We've little in common, you and I.
The interest I take in my neighbor's nursery
Would have to grow, to be even cursory,
And I would that performing sons and nephews
Were carted away with the daily refuse,
And I hold that frolicsome daughters and nieces
Are ample excuse for breaking leases.
You may take a sock at your daddy's tummy
Or climb all over your doting mummy,
But keep your attentions to me in check,
Or, sonny boy, I will wring your neck.
A happier man today I'd be
Had someone wrung it ahead of me.

Added: 14 Sep 2001 | Last Read: 20 Apr 2018 8:35 AM | Viewed: 6971 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/1738/ | Viewed on 20 April 2018.
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