Within the world there's no such charm as children penitent and sad, Who put two soft and chubby arms around your neck, when they've been bad. And as you view their trembling lips, away your temper starts to run, And from your mind all anger slips--forgiving them is so much fun. If there were nothing to forgive I wonder if we'd love them so; If they were wise enough to live as grown-ups do, and always go Along the pleasant path of right, with ne'er a fault from sun to sun, A lot of joys we'd miss at night--forgiving them is so much fun. Tonsils One day the doctor came because my throat was feeling awful sore, And when he looked inside to see he said: "It's like it was before; It's tonserlitis, sure enough. You'd better tell her Pa to-day To make his mind up now to have that little party right away." I'd heard him talk that way before when Bud was sick, and so I knew That what they did to him that time, to me they planned to come and do. An' when my Pa came home that night Ma said: "She can't grow strong and stout Until the doctor comes an' takes her addynoids an' tonsils out." An' then Pa took me on his knee and kissed me solemn-like an' grave, An' said he guessed it was the best, an' then he asked me to be brave. Ma said: "Don't look at her like that, it's nothing to be scared about"; An' Pa said: "True, but still I wish she needn't have her tonsils out." Next morning when I woke, Ma said I couldn't have my breakfast then, Because the doctors and the nurse had said they would be here by ten. When they got here the doctor smiled an' gave me some perfume to smell, An' told me not to cry at all, coz pretty soon I would be well. When I woke up Ma smiled an' said: "It's all right now"; but in my head It seemed like wheels were buzzing round and everywhere I looked was red. An' I can't eat hard cookies yet, nor use my voice at all to shout, But Pa an' Ma seem awful glad that I have had my tonsils out. At Dawn They come to my room at the break of the day, With their faces all smiles and their minds full of play; They come on their tip-toes and silently creep To the edge of the bed where I'm lying asleep, And then at a signal, on which they agree, With a shout of delight they jump right onto me. They lift up my eyelids and tickle my nose, And scratch at my cheeks with their little pink toes; And sometimes to give them a laugh and a scare I snap and I growl like a cinnamon bear; Then over I roll, and with three kids astride I gallop away on their feather-bed ride. I've thought it all over. Man's biggest mistake Is in wanting to sleep when his babes are awake; When they come to his room for that first bit of fun He should make up his mind that his sleeping is done; He should share in the laughter they bring to his side And start off the day with that feather-bed ride.