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My precious grand-child, aged two,
Is eager to unlace one shoe,
          And then the other;
Her cotton socks she'll deftly doff
Despite the mild reproaches of
          Her mother.

Around the house she loves to fare,
And with her rosy tootsies bare,
          Pit-pat the floor;
And though remonstrances we make
She presently decides to take
          Off something more.

Her pinafore she next unties,
And then before we realise,
          Her dress drops down;
Her panties and her brassiere,
Her chemise and her underwear
          Are round her strown.

And now she dances all about,
As naked as a new-caught trout,
          With impish glee;
And though she's beautiful like that,
(A cherubim, but not so fat),
          Quite shocked are we.

And so we dread with dim dismay
Some day she may her charms display
          In skimpy wear;
Aye, even in a gee-string she
May frolic on the stage of the
          Folies-Bèrgere

But e'er she does, I hope she'll read
This worldly wise and warning screed,
          That to conceal,
Unto the ordinary man
Is often more alluring than
          To ALL reveal.

Added: 29 Jun 2002 | Last Read: 22 Mar 2010 2:21 PM | Viewed: 2903 times

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