Belinda Bellonia Bunting,

Thus widowed for half of the day,

Her duty maternal confronting,

With baby would patiently play.

When thus was her energy wasted

A patented food she'd dispense.

(She had bought it the day that they pasted

The posters all over her fence.)

But Bonaparte Buckingham Bunting,

The infant thus blindly adored,

Replied to her worship by grunting,

Which showed he was brutally bored.

'Twas little he cared for the troubles

Of life. Like a crab on the sands,

From his sweet little mouth he blew bubbles,

And threatened the air with his hands.

Bartholomew Benjamin Bunting

One night, as his wife let him in,

Produced as the fruit of his hunting

A cottontail's velvety skin,

Which, seeing young Bonaparte wriggle,

He gave him without a demur,

And the babe with an aqueous giggle

He swallowed the whole of the fur!

Belinda Bellonia Bunting

Behaved like a consummate loon:

Her offspring in frenzy confronting

She screamed herself mottled maroon:

She felt of his vertebrÆ spinal,

Expecting he'd surely succumb,

And gave him one vigorous, final,

Hard prod in the pit of his tum.

But Bonaparte Buckingham Bunting,

At first but a trifle perplexed,

By a change in his manner of grunting

Soon showed he was terribly vexed.

He displayed not a sign of repentance

But spoke, in a dignified tone,

The only consecutive sentence

He uttered. 'Twas: "Lemme alone."

The Moral: The parent that uses

Precaution his folly regrets:

An infant gets all that he chooses,

An infant chews all that he gets.

And colics? He constantly has 'em

So long as his food is the best,

But he'll swallow with never a spasm

What ostriches couldn't digest!