There goes his glass! A rag, a rag, Or soon we'll all be drowning! I knew that he would spill his milk With all his frisky clowning. Just wait, young man, I'll get the stick And I'll apply it heavy -- Watch out, mama, do hold up there And form an oilcloth levee! My plate's marooned; the sugar bowl's A refugee in sorrow -- The flood recedes. But what's the use, A new one comes tomorrow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CELSUS AT HADRIAN'S VILLA by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A VOYAGE TO CYTHERA by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE THE SLAVE MOTHER by FRANCES ELLEN WATKINS HARPER IN THE VALLEY OF THE ELWY by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS AULD ROBIN GRAY by ANNE LINDSAY SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 123 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |