Papa's Asleep
I'm little Tot, and every day
When light peeps through the shutter,
I get up happy, fresh and gay,
Ready for bread and butter.
But first I beg God in my prayers
To have me in his keeping,
And then I softly creep down stairs
While everyone is sleeping.
For I am five years old, and go
About the house at pleasure;
My papa calls me pet; I know
I'm mamma's darling treasure.
So I find papers on the mat,
And see what has been written,
And then I breakfast with the cat
And feed my little kitten —
A wicked pussie, black as ink,
Without one bit of mercy,
Who scratches me before I think,
And bites my poor old nursie.
But still I love it when it purrs,
Much more than jam or honey,
For when I dress it up in furs
And rags, it looks so funny!
And then I have a little pup,
Whose hair is frizzled nicely,
And he's awake when I get up,
At six o'clock precisely.
We play together for an hour,
He's wolf and I am shepherd;
And then I build a big block tower
For Dollie and my leopard.
And I have soldiers dressed in mail,
To set upon the table;
While pussie kills them with her tail,
As fast as she is able.
Then up the stairs I slyly creep,
Doggie behind me leaping,
And in my papa's bedroom peep,
Where he is soundly sleeping;
And though he never moves his eyes,
I sometimes think he sees me;
And when he snores so loud, he tries
To frighten me and tease me.
But I am not afraid at all,
He looks so nice and cosy,
And so close to his side I crawl
To tickle his fat nosie;
And then, before I half have done,
He never, never misses
To catch me when I try to run,
And smother me with kisses!
When light peeps through the shutter,
I get up happy, fresh and gay,
Ready for bread and butter.
But first I beg God in my prayers
To have me in his keeping,
And then I softly creep down stairs
While everyone is sleeping.
For I am five years old, and go
About the house at pleasure;
My papa calls me pet; I know
I'm mamma's darling treasure.
So I find papers on the mat,
And see what has been written,
And then I breakfast with the cat
And feed my little kitten —
A wicked pussie, black as ink,
Without one bit of mercy,
Who scratches me before I think,
And bites my poor old nursie.
But still I love it when it purrs,
Much more than jam or honey,
For when I dress it up in furs
And rags, it looks so funny!
And then I have a little pup,
Whose hair is frizzled nicely,
And he's awake when I get up,
At six o'clock precisely.
We play together for an hour,
He's wolf and I am shepherd;
And then I build a big block tower
For Dollie and my leopard.
And I have soldiers dressed in mail,
To set upon the table;
While pussie kills them with her tail,
As fast as she is able.
Then up the stairs I slyly creep,
Doggie behind me leaping,
And in my papa's bedroom peep,
Where he is soundly sleeping;
And though he never moves his eyes,
I sometimes think he sees me;
And when he snores so loud, he tries
To frighten me and tease me.
But I am not afraid at all,
He looks so nice and cosy,
And so close to his side I crawl
To tickle his fat nosie;
And then, before I half have done,
He never, never misses
To catch me when I try to run,
And smother me with kisses!
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