I am tired to death of keeping still
And being good all day.
I guess my mamma's company
Forgot to go away,
I've wished and wished they'd think of it,
And that they would get through;
But they must talk for ever first,
They almost always do.
I heard Tom calling to me once,
He's launched his boat, I know;
I wanted to get out and help,
But mamma's eyes said no.
The ladies talk such stuff to me,
It makes me sick to hear--
"How beautiful your hair curls!" or,
"How red your cheeks are, dear!"
I'd ten times rather run a race,
Then play my tunes and things;
I wouldn't swop my dogs and balls
For forty diamond rings.
I've got no 'finement, aunty says,
I 'spect she knows the best;
I don't need much to climb a tree,
Or hunt a squirrel's nest.
"Girls are like berries," papa says,
"Sweeter for running wild,"
But Aunt Melissa shakes her head,
And calls me "Horrid child!"
I'll always be a romp she knows--
But sure's my name is Sadie,
I'll fool 'em all some dreadful day,
By growing up a lady.