Ballade of Getting One's Feet Wet

I often thought, when I was small,
How most delightful it would be
To go out walking in a squall
And tramp in puddles for a spree;
But if I did so, brief the glee —
I knew the old familiar threat:
" You'll have to change immediately —
Good gracious me, your feet are wet! "

They used to catch me in the hall
And then and there examine me —
Investigation to appal
The bravest boy, you will agree!
And if, between my shoe and knee
The slightest patch of damp was met,
Though I called Dad for referee,
" Good gracious me, your feet are wet! "

Of no avail to bluster, bawl,
Or to attempt some specious plea,
But I would think (I now recall)
" When I'm grown up I will be free " —
Alas for human fallacy!
The old dominion sways me yet:
On rainy days my wife, says she,
" Good gracious me, your feet are wet! "

ENVOY

This is the thing men may not flee,
The thing no womenfolk forget —
Some day my grandchild will decree
" Good gracious me, your feet are wet! "
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.