I'll like to be a boy again.
Without a woe or care;
With freckles scattered on my face.
And hayseeds in my hair.
I'd like to rise at four o'clock
And do a hundred chores,
And saw the wood, and feed the hogs.
And lock the stable doors ;
And herd the hens, and watch the bees.
And take the mules to drink ;
And teach the turkeys how to swim,
So they will not sink ;
And milk a hundred cows.
And bring In wood to burn,
And stand out in the sun all day.
And churn, and churn, and churn;
And wear my brother's cast-off clothes.
And walk four miles to school.
And get a licking every day
For breaking some old rule ;
And then get home again at night.
And do the chores once more.
And milk the cows, and feed the hoss,
And curry mules a score.
And then trawl wearily upstairs,
And seek my little bed.
And hear dad say, "That worthless boy,
He doesn't earn his bread."
I'd like to be a boy again,
A boy has so much fun ;
His life is just one round of mirth.
From rise to set of sun.
I think there's nothing pleasanter
Than closing stable doors.
And herding hens, and chasing bees,
And doing evening chores.
Notes
From the Victorian Newspaper The Camperdown Chronicle 20 Sep 1910 p. 6.
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