The Good Little Boy

Once there was a boy who never

Tore his clothes, or hardly ever,

Never made his sister mad,

Never whipped for bein' bad,

Never scolded by his Ma,

Never frowned at by his Pa,

Always fit for folks to see,

Always good as good could be.

This good little boy from Heaven,

So I'm told, was only seven,

Yet he never shed real tears

When his mother scrubbed his ears,

An' at times when he was dressed

Fer a party, in his best,

He was careful of his shirt

Not to get it smeared with dirt.

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