[Discussing the unruliness of modern children, a correspondent
in the Press suggests that parents might exchange offspring for
educational purposes.]
Hector, one thought alone forbade
Your stout progenitor to squirm
Through all the months the Huns essayed
To pink his epiderm--
The thought that you, through what he'd done,
Might find a better world, my son.
Now must you do your bit for me,
For, guided by the sage's lore,
I mean to barter progeny
With Brown, the man next door,
And educate in place of you
Bertram, his brazen-lunged Yahoo.
Too long, too long have I been banned
From giving what he's been denied,
The checkings of a chiding hand,
Impartially applied,
But now he's going to get it, Hec
(Though not exactly in the neck).
Exile from your ancestral hut
At first may fill your soul with pain;
If so, this filial thought should cut
Your tears off at the main:
The hours he spends across my knee
Will mean a better world for me.
* * * * *