Explore "Our Whippings" by Eugene Field on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
COME, Harvey, let us sit awhile and talk about the times / Before you went to selling clothes and I to peddling rhymes, -- / The days when we were little boys, as naughty little boys / As ever worried home folks with their everlasting noise! / Egad! and were we so disposed, I'll venture we could show / The scars of wallopings we got some forty years ago; / What wallopings I mean I think I need not specify, -- / Mother's whippings didn't hurt; but father's, -- oh, my!
The way that we played hookey those many years ago, / We'd rather give 'most anything than have our children know! / The thousand naughty things we did, the thousand fibs we told, -- / Why, thinking of them makes my Presbyterian blood run cold! / How often Deacon Sabine Morse remarked if we were his / He'd tan our "pesky little hides until the blisters riz"! / It's many a hearty thrashing to that Deacon Morse we owe, -- / Mother's whippings didn't count; father's did, though!