Our Ethel

Our Ethel was not always,

As people may have thought,

A goody-goody little girl

Who never mischief wrought.



Oh, no, our darling Ethel,

The precious little woman,

Although so very dear to us,

Was most intensely human.



She waded into mischief

Like ducklets into water,

And kept us ever on the watch

With, "Daughter!" "Oh, my Daughter!"







She took the ribbon from her hair

The kitten to bedeck,

Then brought its tail between its legs

And tied it tail and neck.



She took her dolly to the pump

And pinned it on the spout,

And then with all her might and main

She pumped the water out.



"Oh, little Haynth tho' thelfith,'

She cried, because her cousin

Besought one pillow, while she hugged

Them all, a half a dozen.



She found a bell that tinkled,

And fastened it, for fun,

'Round kitty's neck then clapped her hands,

And cried, run! Kitty, run!



She fain would pick the eyes out,

Of little baby-brother,

"To find the pretty balls like those

In fishes' eyes, and other."







And then she'd fold her little hands

So quaintly and demurely,

You'd think she must be quite a saint,

Or not a sinner, surely.



And thus her pranks from day to day

And hour to hour repeated,

Would bring the thought, "Tis all for naught,

Our aims are all defeated."



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Nay, nay, not so, the years roll by,

And Ethel's baby-mischief

Becomes the power that leads her kind,

For by her force she is chief.





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