A Boy’s MotherO
By James Whitcomb Riley
My mother she’s so good to me,
Ef I was good as I could be,
I couldn’t be as good—no, sir!—
Can’t any boy be good as her.
She loves me when I’m glad er sad;
She loves me when I’m good er bad;
An’, what’s a funniest thing, she says
She loves me when she punishes.
I don’t like her to punish me—
That don’t hurt—but it hurts to see
Her cryin’.—Nen I cry; an’ nen
We both cry an’ be good again.
She loves me when she cuts an’ sews
My little cloak an’ Sund’y clothes;
An’ when my Pa comes home to tea,
She loves him ’most as much as me.
She laughs an’ tells him all I said,
An’ grabs me up an’ pats my head;
An’ I hug her, an’ hug my Pa,
An’ love him purt’ nigh much as Ma.
Notes
O From “Rhymes of Childhood,” by James Whitcomb Riley. Copyright, 1890. Used by special permission of the publishers. The Bobbs-Merrill Company.