The Evening Bath
(Apartment Next Door).
I try to read—but really, what's the use?
You'd think, I swear, 'twas Bedlam broken loose;
A scream! And then I hear, "Oh mercy! Ouch! My ear!
I surely cannot stand all this abuse!
You're gouging me and pulling out my hair;
My skin's rubbed off—'tis more than I can bear!
Now really you're not heeding or you'd see my nose is bleeding!
I believe you would kill me if you dared!"
I jump up from my chair and grab my gun;
I must be quick or murder will be done;
I rush across the hall and loudly 'gin to call:
"Unnatural parent, wouldst thou slay thy son?",
Upon the door I then begin to beat,
And straightway hear the scamper of bare feet;
Then "Mother" stood and laughed, said, "Surely you've gone daft—
I'm only giving them their evening bath."
She calmed herself and then she sweetly said,
"I always scrub 'em 'fore they go to bed;
But don't see why my daughter should have such fear of water;
And Buster,—why, it simply drives him mad!
I really don't see what I'm going to do,
Despite the fact it greatly worries you;
Of course it may seem mean but I'm going to keep them clean—
And I don't know how unless I scrub 'em down."
——————
So "Cleanliness is next to Godliness!"
It may be so; but really I confess
I'd let them go as black as night and look just like an awful fright—
Unless the Gold Dust Twins'd do the work.
What matter, pray, if streaks run 'round the neck
And dirt be under nails, about a peck?
I'd rather, oh, yes, quite, that they were black than white—
If I disturbed the town when bathing them.
