When I was younger kids were kids, in Kansas or in Cadiz; now all the
boys are gentlemen, and all the girls are ladies. Where are the kids
who climbed the trees, the tousled young carousers, who got their faces
black with dirt, and tore their little trousers? Where are the lads
who scrapped by rounds, while other lads kept tallies? The maids who
made their pies of mud, and danced in dirty alleys? They're making
calf-love somewhere now, exchanging cards and kisses, they're all fixed
up in Sunday togs, and they are Sirs and Misses. Real kids have
vanished from the world--which fact is surely hades; and all the boys
are gentlemen, and all the girls are ladies.
      
    boys are gentlemen, and all the girls are ladies. Where are the kids
who climbed the trees, the tousled young carousers, who got their faces
black with dirt, and tore their little trousers? Where are the lads
who scrapped by rounds, while other lads kept tallies? The maids who
made their pies of mud, and danced in dirty alleys? They're making
calf-love somewhere now, exchanging cards and kisses, they're all fixed
up in Sunday togs, and they are Sirs and Misses. Real kids have
vanished from the world--which fact is surely hades; and all the boys
are gentlemen, and all the girls are ladies.