It's when the birds go piping and the daylight slowly breaks, <br />That, clamoring for his dinner, our precious baby wakes; <br />Then it's sleep no more for baby, and it's sleep no more for me, <br />For, when he wants his dinner, why it's dinner it must be! <br />And of that lacteal fluid he partakes with great ado, <br /> While gran'ma laughs, <br /> And gran'pa laughs, <br /> And wife, she laughs, <br /> And I - well, I laugh, too! <br /> <br />You'd think, to see us carrying on about that little tad, <br />That, like as not, that baby was the first we'd ever had; <br />But, sakes alive! he isn't, yet we people make a fuss <br />As if the only baby in the world had come to us! <br />And, morning, noon, and night-time, whatever he may do, <br /> Gran'ma, she laughs, <br /> Gran'pa, he laughs, <br /> Wife, she laughs, <br /> And I, of course, laugh, too! <br /> <br />But once - a likely spell ago - when that poor little chick <br />From teething or from some such ill of infancy fell sick, <br />You wouldn't know us people as the same that went about <br />A-feelin' good all over, just to hear him crow and shout; <br />And, though the doctor poohed our fears and said he'd pull him through, <br /> Old gran'ma cried, <br /> And gran'pa cried, <br /> And wife, she cried, <br /> And I - yes, I cried, too! <br /> <br />It makes us all feel good to have a baby on the place, <br />With his everlastin' crowing and his dimpling, dumpling face; <br />The patter of his pinky feet makes music everywhere, <br />And when he shakes those fists of his, good-by to every care! <br />No matter what our trouble is, when he begins to coo, <br /> Old gran'ma laughs, <br /> And gran'pa laughs, <br /> Wife, she laughs, <br /> And I - you bet, I laugh, too!<br /><br />Eugene Field<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-happy-household/
