  Of all the dreaded bugs and germs That in this earth abound, No bugs in greater number Have ever yet been found, Nor looked upon with terror more By big folks and by small Than GROUCH-BUGS, which are awful pests. That come to one and all. They make us, oh, so cranky That we would like to yell, And hunt up all the meanest things About our friends to tell. When other folks are smiling The GROUCH-BUG'S victim cries, While other folks are dancing The GROUCH-SICK heave big sighs. A great and noted doctor says The GROUCH-BUG is but found Within the torrid climate And that the bug will never live In woman, boy or child, But always seeks a man's stout frame And makes him cross and wild. But though I'm young, I truly think That this is not quite true, For well I know some little girls, And boys and ladies, too, Who have the awful GROUCHES And get quite fiercely mad So that they act like demons Who never can be glad. My daddy says the only cure Which he would always use For folks who get the GROUCHES And other folks abuse, Would be to give a ducking With water freezing cold So that they'd be so chilly But for the kiddies of my age Who let this bad bug in, He recommends the touching |
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