Peek-A-Boo by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The cunningest thing that a baby can do / Is the very first time it plays peek-a-boo;

When it hides its pink little face in its hands, / And crows, and shows that it understands

What nurse, and mamma and papa, too, / Mean when they hide and cry, "Peek a-boo, peek-a-boo."

Oh, what a wonderful thing it is, / When they find that baby can play like this!

And every one listens, and thinks it true / That baby's gurgle means "Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo";

And over and over the changes are rung / On the marvellous infant who talks so young.

I wonder if any one ever knew / A baby that never played peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo.

'Tis old as the hills are. I believe / Cain was taught it by Mother Eve;

For Cain was an innocent baby, too, / And I am sure he played peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo.

And the whole world full of the children of men, / Have all of them played that game since then.

Kings and princes and beggars, too, / Every one has played peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo.

Thief and robber and ruffian bold, / The crazy tramp and the drunkard old,

All have been babies who laughed and knew / How to hide, and play peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo.