First thing in the morning, last I hear at night, <br />Get it when I come from school: 'My, you look a sight! <br />Go upstairs this minute, an' roll your sleeves up high <br />An' give your hands a scrubbing and wipe 'em till they're dry! <br />Now don't stand there and argue, and never mind your tears! <br />And this time please remember to wash your neck and ears.' <br /> <br />Can't see why ears grow on us, all crinkled like a shell, <br />With lots of fancy carvings that make a feller yell <br />Each time his Ma digs in them to get a speck of dirt, <br />When plain ones would be easy to wash and wouldn't hurt. <br />And I can't see the reason why every time Ma nears, <br />She thinks she's got to send me to wash my neck and ears. <br /> <br />I never wash to suit her; don't think I ever will. <br />If I was white as sister, she'd call me dirty still. <br />At night I get a scrubbing and go to bed, and then <br />The first thing in the morning, she makes me wash again. <br />That strikes me as ridiklus; I've thought of it a heap. <br />A feller can't get dirty when he is fast asleep. <br /> <br />When I grow up to be a man like Pa, and have a wife <br />And kids to boss around, you bet they'll have an easy life. <br />We won't be at them all the time, the way they keep at me, <br />And kick about a little dirt that no one else can see. <br />And every night at supper time as soon as he appears, <br />We will not chase our boy away to wash his neck and ears.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bud-discusses-cleanliness/
