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Poem by Eugene Field Fitte the Fifth He whisked into the dusty street And to the Waller lot, Where bonnie Annie Evans played With charming Sissy Knott. And with those pretty little dears He mixed himself all up— Oh, fie upon such boisterous play— Fie, fie, you naughty pup! Woe, woe on Annie's India mull, And Sissy's blue percale! One got that pup's belathered flanks, And one his soapy tail! Forth to the rescue of those maids Rushed gallant Willie Clow; His panties they were white and clean— Where are those panties now? Where is the nicely laundered shirt That Kendall Evans wore, And Robbie James' tricot coat All buttoned up before? The leaven, which, as we are told, Leavens a monstrous lump, Hath far less reaching qualities Than a wet pup on the jump. This way and that he swung and swayed, He gambolled far and near, And everywhere he thrust himself He left a soapy smear. Eugene Field Eugene Field's other poems: ![]() 1178 Views |
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