  BLAMED if I see any fun In being a boy, With ev’rybody trying Their hardest to annoy! It’s “Harold” here, and “Harold” there Until they have me sick Of “Run along!”—“Don’t be slow!”— Or “Hurry up; be quick!” First some one sends me down-stairs, I run with might and main; Before I’m half-way there it’s turn And run right up again! And sure as I go out to play, Or have a little fun, I’m called straight in: there’s something else A-waiting to be done! I just believe I’ll run away; Pack all my things and go! Can’t see the use of staying ’round And being treated so! For I just bet when they were small, Not one of them would do Half of the errands and the things That I’m expected to! |
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