A smudge on his nose and a smear on his cheek <br />And knees that might not have been washed in a week; <br />A bump on his forehead, a scar on his lip, <br />A relic of many a tumble and trip: <br />A rough little, tough little rascal, but sweet, <br />Is he that each evening I'm eager to meet. <br /> <br />A brow that is beady with jewels of sweat; <br />A face that's as black as a visage can get; <br />A suit that at noon was a garment of white, <br />Now one that his mother declares is a fright: <br />A fun-loving, sun-loving rascal, and fine, <br />Is he that comes placing his black fist in mine. <br /> <br />A crop of brown hair that is tousled and tossed; <br />A waist from which two of the buttons are lost; <br />A smile that shines out through the dirt and the grime, <br />And eyes that are flashing delight all the time: <br />All these are the joys that I'm eager to meet <br />And look for the moment I get to my street.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-rough-little-rascal/
