WHEN TEDDY SMITH.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXII, Issue XXI, 27 May 1899, Page 745

WHEN TEDDY SMITH.

When Teddy Smith first put on pants, lie felt so very grand He wouldn’t mind his mother. Or he wouldn’t hold her hand.

But on the street lie walked ahead. And tried to whistle some. He thought perhaps he'd go to war, And lire an awful gun.

He wouldn’t ride his hobby-horse. He called Jack Spratt ’a fib!’ He sat at meals in father’s chair, And scorned his gingham bib.

His mother mustn't spread his bread. Nor cut things on his plate; She mustn’t say, ’No more, my dear! No matter what he ate.

She mustn’t kiss him when he fell And Lumped him on the stones. And she must say, ‘Dear sir,’ just as She did to Mr Jones!

So hard to please this gentleman His loving mother tried. It quite enlarged his dignity, And swelled his lofty pride.

And all was brave, and all was well, Until that mother said. At eight o’clock, of course, dear sir. You'll go alone to bed!’

Ah. would you have me say what then Befell the great big man? For if you undertake to guess— I hardly think you can!

He turned the corners of his mouth Most fearfully awry. He rubbed his grown-up fist awhile Across his grown-up eye.

Then burying in his mother’s lap Both pride and manly joy. He said In just the ‘littlesU voice, •1 guess I’m just a boy!’ Catherine Young Glen.