Classic Poem

M INDIN ' baby ain't much fun
When the other fellers say,
“Goin' ter have a game of ball;
Do n't you wisht that you could play?”
Then it seems like baby gets
Jest so heavy I can't hold
Her no more! Gee, do n't I wisht
She would hurry and get old!

Hafter set and see 'em go
With my bat an' glove and ball
Out into the alley, where
I kin hear 'em laugh an' call.
Mindin' baby ain't much fun
When you wanter play, by gee!
Still—I guess when I was small
Some one had ter care fer me.

When I think of that I jest
Pick her up and make her smile;
Poke my fingers in her cheeks—
Brings a dimple after while.
Then she puts her leetle arms
Tight around my neck an' tries
To explain it ain't HER fault—
Looks so pleadin' with her eyes!

Mindin' baby ain't much fun
Fer a lively boy, you bet,
When he'd ruther play baseball
With the other boys—and yet
When she coos and pats my cheeks,
I jest can't keep bein' mad.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
When she loves me that a-way,
Mindin' baby ain't so bad!