He tore the curtains yesterday, And scratched the paper on the wall; Ma's rubbers, too, have gone astray -- She says she left them in the hall; He tugged the table cloth and broke A fancy saucer and a cup; Though Bud and I think it a joke Ma scolds a lot about the pup. The sofa pillows are a sight, The rugs are looking somewhat frayed, And there is ruin, left and right, That little Boston bull has made. He slept on Buddy's counterpane -- Ma found him there when she woke up. I think it needless to explain She scolds a lot about the pup. And yet he comes and licks her hand And sometimes climbs into her lap And there, Bud lets me understand, He very often takes his nap. And Bud and I have learned to know She wouldn't give the rascal up: She's really fond of him, although She scolds a lot about the pup. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A FRIEND IN THE MAKING by MARIANNE MOORE THE WINE OF NIGHT by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE QUAKER GRAVEYARD by SILAS WEIR MITCHELL AN OLD BATTLE-FIELD by FRANK LEBBY STANTON SKIPPER IRESON'S RIDE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |