This picture reflects my attitude about my daughters who have, alas, gone off and abandoned me to live with someone else. Tsktsktsk
Also please excuse the Ogden Nash poem. It is just too cool.
Song To Be Sung by the Father of Infant Female Children
My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky;
Contrariwise, my blood runs cold
When little boys go by.
For little boys as little boys,
No special hate I carry,
But now and then they grow to men,
And when they do, they marry.
No matter how they tarry,
Eventually they marry.
And, swine among the pearls,
They marry little girls.
Oh, somewhere, somewhere, an infant plays,
With parents who feed and clothe him.
Their lips are sticky with pride and praise,
But I have begun to loathe him.
Yes, I loathe with loathing shameless
This child who to me is nameless.
This bachelor child in his carriage
Gives never a thought to marriage,
But a person can hardly say knife
Before he will hunt him a wife.
I never see an infant (male),
A-sleeping in the sun,
Without I turn a trifle pale
And think is he the one?
Oh, first he'll want to crop his curls,
And then he'll want a pony,
And then he'll think of pretty girls,
And holy matrimony.
A cat without a mouse
Is he without a spouse.
Oh, somewhere he bubbles bubbles of milk,
And quietly sucks his thumbs.
His cheeks are roses painted on silk,
And his teeth are tucked in his gums.
But alas the teeth will begin to grow,
And the bubbles will cease to bubble;
Given a score of years or so,
The roses will turn to stubble.
He'll sell a bond, or he'll write a book,
And his eyes will get that acquisitive look,
And raging and ravenous for the kill,
He'll boldly ask for the hand of Jill.
This infant whose middle
Is diapered still
Will want to marry My daughter Jill.
Oh sweet be his slumber and moist his middle!
My dreams, I fear, are infanticiddle.
A fig for embryo Lohengrins*!
I'll open all his safety pins*,
I'll pepper his powder, and salt his bottle,
And give him readings from Aristotle.
Sand for his spinach I'll gladly bring,
And Tabasco sauce for his teething ring.
Then perhaps he'll struggle though fire and water
To marry somebody else's daughter.
Translation for the publicly educated:
1. Lohengrins = A fictional medieval knight who had a marriage that defined his life.
2. Safety pin = Diaper pins were used on cloth diapers before the advent of disposable diapers, sticky stuff, and Velcro.
Amazing poem. I would guess that the crop of the newly educated will be the death knell for Ogden Nash. A poorly developed sense of humor, lack of reading skills, inability to look outside of their own life span are standard for the politically correct indoctrinated.
HTOITA - hopefully
2 comments:
Cute cute cute! The poem too! LOLOLOL!
I must send this to my son in law who now is the father of two girls. He came from a family of all boys, so he is starting to see things a bit differently now that he has two daughters. LOL! Cute poem.
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