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."
* * * * *
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.
* * * * *