When father couldn't wear them mother cut them down for me; <br />She took the slack in fore and aft, and hemmed them at the knee; <br />They fitted rather loosely, but the things that made me glad <br />Were the horizontal pockets that those good old trousers had. <br /> <br />They shone like patent leather just where well-worn breeches do, <br />But the cloth in certain portions was considered good as new, <br />And I know that I was envied by full many a richer lad <br />For the horizontal pockets that those good old knickers had. <br /> <br />They were cut along the waist line, with the opening straight and wide, <br />And there wasn't any limit to what you could get inside; <br />They would hold a peck of marbles, and a knife and top and string, <br />And snakes and frogs and turtles; there was room for everything. <br /> <br />Then our fortune changed a little, and my mother said that she <br />Wouldn't bother any longer fitting father's duds on me, <br />But the store clothes didn't please me; there were times they made me <br /> sad, <br />For I missed those good old pockets that my father's trousers had.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-cut-down-trousers/
