Dad didn't always appreciate the poems Mama recited to us kids. The one I remember that made him the most cross was called "When Papa was a Little Boy." Reading it as an adult, I understand exactly why he'd leave the room. I even understand some of what would be happening before she'd start reciting it. It would happen when Daddy would be on one of his perfectionist rampages. That's as good a word as any. I'm positive it was more effective than her yelling at him would have been.
I imagine the poem would fit many a husband and father, but with a little rewording, it would probably fit many women and mothers of today's world as well. Enjoy now a laugh at the expense of our strange family.
When Papa Was A Little Boy
When Papa was a little boy, you really couldn't find
Within the state or anywhere a child so quick to mind.
His mother never called but once and he was always there.
He never made the baby cry or pulled his sister's hair.
He never slid down banisters or made the slightest noise;
And never in his life was known to fight with other boys.
He always studied hard at school and got his lessons right;
And chopping wood and milking cows were Papa's chief delight.
He always rose at six o'clock and went to bed at eight,
And never lay abed til noon, and never sat up late.
He finished Latin, French and Greek when he was ten years old,
And knew the Spanish alphabet as soon as he was told.
He never grumbled when he had to do the evening chores,
And ne'er in all his life forgot to shut the stable doors.
He never, never thought of play until his work was done,
And labored hard from break of day until the set of sun.
He never scraped his muddy shoes upon the parlor floor,
And never answered back his ma, and never banged the door.
"But truly, I could never see," said little Dick Malloy,
"How he could never do these things and really be a boy."