WHEN mother sits beside my bed At night, and strokes and smooths my head, And kisses me, I think, some way, How naughty I have been all day; Of how I waded in the brook, And of the cookies that I took, And how I smashed a window light A-rassling--me and Bobby White-- And tore my pants, and told a lie; It almost makes me want to cry When mother pats and kisses me; I'm just as sorry as can be, But I don't tell her so--no, sir. She knows it all; you can't fool her. |