James Whitcomb Riley

A Boy's Mother

My mother she's so good to me,

Ef I was good as I could be,

I couldn't be as good—no, sir!—

Can't any boy be good as her!

She loves me when I'm glad er sad;

She loves me when I'm good er bad;

An', what's a funniest thing, she says

She loves me when she punishes.

I don't like her to punish me.—

That don't hurt,—but it hurts to see

Her cryin'.—Nen I  cry; an' nen

We both cry an' be good again.

She loves me when she cuts and sews

My little cloak an' Sund'y clothes;

An' when my Pa comes home to tea,

She loves him 'most as much as me.

She laughs an' tells him all I said,

An' grabs me up and pats my head;

And I hug her,  and hug my Pa

An' love him purt' nigh as much as Ma.