Let's straighten this out, my little man, <br />And reach an agreement if we can. <br />I entered your door as an honored guest. <br />My shoes are shined and my trousers are pressed, <br />And I won't stretch out and read you the funnies <br />And I won't pretend that we're Easter bunnies. <br />If you must get somebody down on the floor, <br />What in the hell are your parents for? <br />I do not like the things that you say <br />And I hate the games that you want to play. <br />No matter how frightfully hard you try, <br />We've little in common, you and I. <br />The interest I take in my neighbor's nursery <br />Would have to grow, to be even cursory, <br />And I would that performing sons and nephews <br />Were carted away with the daily refuse, <br />And I hold that frolicsome daughters and nieces <br />Are ample excuse for breaking leases. <br />You may take a sock at your daddy's tummy <br />Or climb all over your doting mummy, <br />But keep your attentions to me in check, <br />Or, sonny boy, I will wring your neck. <br />A happier man today I'd be <br />Had someone wrung it ahead of me.<br /><br />Ogden Nash<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-a-small-boy-standing-on-my-shoes-while-i-am-w/
