Some people say the sky is blue
Acause it's warshed by rains up there;
I dunno if 'at's so, do you?
And I don't care--and I don't care!
I ain't no sky, an' I don't like
To have my face warshed, anyhow;
My nurse says I'm a "naughty tike
To run away" or raise a row.
But ef she daubed mud on like this
A-purpose, so's the boys would play
With her--and not call her a "sis,"
She'd hate to warsh it all away!
That's why the blue sky'll never mean
A in-spi-ra-tion er a "joy";
A-course it can be nice an' clean--
It won't be called a "sissy-boy."