Sometimes I'm almost glad to hear when I get home that they've been bad;
And though I try to look severe, within my heart I'm really glad
When mother sadly tells to me the list of awful things they've done,
Because when they come tearfully, forgiving them is so much fun.
I like to have them all alone, with no one near to hear or see,
Then as their little faults they own, I like to take them on my knee
And talk it over and pretend the whipping soon must be begun;
And then to kiss them at the end--forgiving them is so much fun.
Within the world there's no such charm as children penitent and sad,
Who put two soft and chubby arms around your neck, when they've been bad.
And as you view their trembling lips, away your temper starts to run,
And from your mind all anger slips--forgiving them is so much fun.
If there were nothing to forgive I wonder if we'd love them so;
If they were wise enough to live as grown-ups do, and always go
Along the pleasant path of right, with ne'er a fault from sun to sun,
A lot of joys we'd miss at night--forgiving them is so much fun.
