MISCHIEVOUS and full of fun,
Eyes that sparkle like the sun;
Mouth that's always in a smile,
Hands in trouble all the while.
Tugging this and tugging that,
Nothing that you don't get at,
Nothing that you do not do,
Roguish little tyke of two.
Prying round the house you go,
Everything you want to know,
Everything you want to see,
Bunch of curiosity.
Nothing's safe with you about,
Nothing you don't ferret out.
"No! No's!" do not hinder you,
Roguish little tyke of two.
All day long you tear and break,
Ruin follows in your wake,
Just as though the tables are
Made for little feet to mar;
Just as though I spend my cash
For pottery for you to smash;
You're destructive through and through,
Roguish little tyke of two.
Hands and feet are never still,
Ink you think is made to spill;
On from this to that you pass
To the sound of falling glass.
Cups, you think, were made to throw
On the hardwood floor below.
Gleefully their wreck you view,
Roguish little tyke of two.
But I'd rather have it so,
Than the home I used to know;
Rather have you crash and break,
Leaving ruin in your wake;
Rather have you tug and tear
Till the place is worn and bare,
Than the childless home I knew,
Roguish little tyke of two.
