I Don't Want to Go to Bed
World wide over this is said:
"I don't want to go to bed."
Dads and mothers, far and near,
Every night this chorus hear;
Makes no difference where they are,
Here or off in Zanzibar,
In the igloos made of snow
Of the fur-clad Eskimo,
In this blistering torrid zone,
This one touch of nature's known;
In life's various tongues it's said:
"I don't want to go to bed!"
This has ever been the way
Of the youngsters at their play.
Laughter quickly dries their tears,
Trouble swiftly disappears,
Joy is everywhere about,
Here and there and in and out;
Yet when night comes on they cry
That so glad a day should die,
And they think that they will miss
Something more of precious bliss,
So shouts every curly-head:
"I don't want to go to bed!"
Age is glad to put away
All the burdens of the day,
Glad to lay the worries down,
Quit the noises of the town,
And in slumber end the care
That has met them here and there.
But the children do not know
Life is freighted down with woe;
They would run until they drop,
Hoping day would never stop,
Calling back when it has fled:
"I don't want to go to bed."
Morning Brigands
There may be happier times than this,
But if there are I've never known them,
When youngsters jump in bed to kiss
And wake the pa's and ma's who own them.
What if the sun be up or not,
Another perfect day is dawning,
And is it not a happy lot
With such delight to greet the morning?
Sometimes I hear them quit their bed
And catch their bare-foot pitter-patter,
And other times they're at my head
Before I know what is the matter.
Brigands to rob us of our sleep
They come—their weapons love and laughter,
And though we're locked in slumber deep,
They always get the joy they're after.
Some days there are when we would lie
And dream our dreams a little longer,
Then "back to bed awhile," we cry—
But oh, our love for them is stronger,
Yes, stronger than our wish to sleep
And so we countermand the order
And let that pair of brigands leap
With wild delight across love's border.