LITTLE WILLIE BY EUGENE FIELD
[Illustration]
SAN FRANCISCO
PRIVATELY PRINTED
1921
_This edition comprising two hundred copies was printed by John Henry
Nash of San Francisco for Louis A. Kohn of Chicago in October, Nineteen
Hundred & Twenty-one._
_When Willie was a little boy
Not more than five or six,
Right constantly he did annoy
His mother with his tricks.
Yet not a picayune cared I
For what he did or said,
Unless, as happened frequently,
The rascal wet the bed._
_Closely he cuddled up to me
And put his hands in mine,
Till all at once I seemed to be
Afloat in seas of brine.
Sabean odors clogged the air
And filled my soul with dread,
Yet I could only grin and bear
When Willie wet the bed._
_Tis many times that rascal has
Soaked all the bedclothes through,
Whereat I’d feebly light the gas
And wonder what to do.
Yet there he lay, so peaceful like;
God bless his curly head,
I quite forgave the little tyke
For wetting of the bed._
_Ah me! those happy days have flown,
My boy’s a father too,
And little Willies of his own
Do what he used to do.
And I, ah, all that’s left for me
Are dreams of pleasures fled;
Our boys ain’t what they used to be
When Willie wet the bed._
_Had I my choice no shapely dame
Should share my couch with me,
No amorous jade of tarnished fame,
No wench of high degree.
But I would choose and choose again
The little curly head,
Who cuddled close beside me when
He used to wet the bed._
NOTE: _Mr. Field said that his wife took the boy away on a visit,
and he found in their absence he couldn’t sleep till he got up and
poured water on his nightshirt._
