  Bill Jones, who goes to school with me, Is the saddest boy I ever see. He's just so 'fraid he runs away When all of us fellows want to play, An' says he dassent stay about Coz if his father found it out He'd wallop him. An' he can't go With us to see a picture show On Saturdays, an' it's too bad, But he's afraid to ask his dad. When he gets his report card, he Is just as scared as scared can be, An' once I saw him when he cried Becoz although he'd tried an' tried His best, the teacher didn't care An' only marked his spelling fair, An' he told me there'd be a fight When his dad saw his card that night. It seems to me it's awful bad To be so frightened of your dad. My Dad ain't that way—I can go An' tell him everything I know, An' ask him things, an' when he comes Back home at night he says we're chums; An' we go out an' take a walk, An' all the time he lets me talk. I ain't scared to tell him what I've done to-day that I should not; When I get home I'm always glad To stay around an' play with Dad. Bill Jones, he says, he wishes he Could have a father just like me, But his dad hasn't time to play, An' so he chases him away An' scolds him when he makes a noise An' licks him if he breaks his toys. Sometimes Bill says he's got to lie Or else get whipped, an' that is why It seems to me it's awful bad To be so frightened of your dad. |
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