When a naughty little fellow stands ashamed in front of you <br />And his lips begin to quiver and he's ready to boo-hoo, <br />When his big round eyes are filling with the tears he cannot check, <br />And at last you find him sobbing with his arms around your neck, <br />Don't you get a tender feeling sort of stealing over you, <br />Till you feel like crying with him? — Well, you bet your life I do. <br /> <br />When a naughty little fellow, who's the counterpart of you, <br />Has been guilty of the very willful deeds you used to do, <br />And you've got him on the carpet, where you often used to stand, <br />And you quickly feel the pressure of a grimy little hand <br />That has stolen rather slyly into yours and thrilled you through, <br />Don't you overlook his conduct? — Well, you bet your life I do. <br /> <br />When a naughty little fellow that has disobeyed his Ma <br />Has at last been brought to judgment in the presence of his Pa, <br />Who has heard that dreadful story of that very dreadful day, <br />And you know that he is worried over what you'll do or say, <br />And against your cheek you notice there's a cheek that's damp and hot, <br />Are you stern enough to whip him? — Well, you bet your life I'm not.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-naughty-little-fellow/
