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Title: The Children's "Don't"
Author: Harry Graham [
More Titles by Graham]
DON'T tell Papa his nose is red
As any rosebud or geranium,
Forbear to eye his hairless head
Or criticise his cootlike cranium;
'Tis years of sorrow and of care
Have made his head come through his hair.
Don't give your endless guinea-pig
(Wherein that animal may build a
Sufficient nest) the Sunday wig
Of poor, dear, dull, deaf Aunt Matilda.
Oh, don't tie strings across her path,
Or empty beetles in her bath!
Don't ask your uncle why he's fat;
Avoid upon his toe-joints treading;
Don't hide a hedgehog in his hat,
Or bury bushes in his bedding.
He will not see the slightest sport
In pepper put into his port!
Don't pull away the cherished chair
On which Mamma intended sitting,
Nor yet prepare her session there
By setting on the seat her knitting;
Pause ere you hurt her spine, I pray--
That is a game that two can play.
My children, never, never steal!
To know their offspring is a thief
Will often make a father feel
Annoyed and cause a mother grief;
So never steal, but, when you do,
Be sure there's no one watching you.
Perhaps you have a turn for what
Is known as "misappropriation,"
Attractions this has doubtless got
For persons of a certain station,
But prevalent 'twill never be
Among the aristocracy.
Of course, suppose you want a thing
(The owner's absent), and you borrow
A ruby ring; you mean to bring
Your friend his trinket back to-morrow
Meanwhile you have the stones reset,
Lest he forget! Lest he forget!
And if some rude detective's hand
Should find beneath your cloak a roll
Of muslin, or a cruet-stand
That's labelled "Hotel Metropole,"
With kindly smile you hand them back,
A harmless Kleptomaniac!
* * * * *
Don't tell a lie! Some men I've known
Commit the most appalling acts,
Because they happen to be prone
To an economy of facts;
And if to lie is bad, no doubt
'Tis even worse to get found out!
* * * * *
Don't take the life of any one,
However horrid he may be;
That sort of thing is never done,
Not in the best society,
Where even parricide is thought
A most unfilial kind of sport.
Among the "Upper Ten" to-day,
It is considered want of tact
To slay one's kith and kin, and may
Be classed as an "unfriendly act."
Oh, yes, of course I know that this
Is merely public prejudice.
But ever since the world began,
Howe'er well meant his motives are,
The man who slays his fellow man
Is never really popular,
Whether he sins from love of crime,
Or merely just to pass the time.
[The end]
Harry Graham's poem: Children's "Don't"
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