She said he was a wicked boy, And ought to have a smack! And yet I think she loved him more Because she'd got him back.
Now when I see a Chinaman, And that is every day, I wonder if he is, grown up, The boy that ran away.
But what I still think most about When I this story tell, Is the GREAT BIG Market Gardener That raised him from the well
"Nice child--very nice child," observed an old gentleman, crossing to the other side of the car and addressing the mother of the boy who had just hit him in the eye with a wad of paper. "How old are you, my son?"
"None of your business," replied the youngster, taking aim at another passenger.
"Fine boy," smiled the old man, as the parent regarded her offspring with pride. "A remarkably fine boy. What is your name, my son?"
"Puddin' Tame!" shouted the youngster, with a giggle at his own wit.
"I thought so," continued the old man, pleasantly. "If you had given me three guesses at it, that would have been the first one I would have struck on. Now, Puddin', you can blow those things pretty straight, can't you?"
"You bet!" squealed the boy, delighted at the compliment. "See me take that old fellow over there!"
"No, no!" exclaimed the old gentleman, hastily. "Try it on the old woman I was sitting with. She has boys of her own, and she won't mind."
"Can't you hit the lady for the gentleman, Johnny?" asked the fond parent.
Johnny cleverly landed the pellet on the end of the old woman's nose.
But she did mind it, and rising in her wrath soared down on the small boy like a hawk. She put him over the line, reversed him, ran him backwards, till he didn't know which end of him was front, and finally dropped him into the lap of the scared mother, with a benediction whereof the purport was that she'd be back in a moment to skin him alive.
"She didn't seem to like it, Puddin'," smiled the old gentleman, softly. "She's a perfect stranger to me; but I understand she is the matron of an Orphans' Home, and I thought she would like a little fun; but I was mistaken."
And the old man smiled sweetly as he went back to his seat. He was sorry for the poor little boy, but he couldn't help it.
Of all the small boys in our town That Jones boy was the worst, And if the "bad man" came around He'd take that Jones boy first.