It takes so long to grow up big and get to be a man,
I wisht sometimes that I'd been born as old as Mary Ann;
(She is the cook, and she's so old her teeth come out at night),
'Cause then I wouldn't want a boy to play with or to fight.
But now I go upstairs and down
And get in people's way,
Because there ain't _no_ children here
To play with every day.
The house next door is big and fine, but nobody lives there;
And all the winders, like big eyes, just stare at me, and stare,
Until I run back in our house and 'tend like I can't see,
And feel my way around the rooms till ma, she says to me:
"My goodness, Rob, what is this game?
Pretending you are blind?
Dear me! The child has surely got
A most peculiar mind."
I've ast my pa to go and buy a brother for me, too;
But he jest shakes his head and says that it would never do;
And then he takes a book up quick and reads to me and tries
To make me laugh and talk to him; but sometimes ma, she cries.
But even then I seem to see
The empty house next door
And all those big, dark window-eyes
That stared at me before.
Some time I'm going to run away and find a father-man
Who has whole lots of boys and girls--for I am sure I can--
And when I do, I'm going to ast him please to come and take
The house next door and live in it--and--do it for my sake!
And if he does, oh, won't it be
A happy day for me?
I'll get a lot of brothers, then,
Without _no_ bother--see?