Poetry Monday

another Ogden Nash....

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




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.