Ah! why will my dear little girl be so cross, <br />And cry, and look sulky, and pout? <br />To lose her sweet smile is a terrible loss, <br />I can't even kiss her without. <br /> <br />You say you don't like to be wash'd and be dress'd, <br />But would you not wish to be clean? <br />Come, drive that long sob from your dear little breast, <br />This face is not fit to be seen. <br /> <br />If the water is cold, and the brush hurts your head, <br />And the soap has got into your eye, <br />Will the water grow warmer for all that you've said? <br />And what good will it do you to cry? <br /> <br />It is not to tease you and hurt you, my sweet, <br />But only for kindness and care, <br />That I wash you, and dress you, and make you look neat, <br />And comb out your tanglesome hair. <br /> <br />I don't mind the trouble, if you would not cry, <br />But pay me for all with a kiss; <br />That's right -- take the towel and wipe your wet eye, <br />I thought you'd be good after this.<br /><br />Ann Taylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-washing-and-dressing/
