There is a little boy
A petted pampered lad
That doesn’t know the joy
Or pleasure we have had.

His mother thinks she’s kind,
She lets him lie abed;
And when this laddie whined
She brought a sumptuous spread.

His was not food alone,
His mind is filled as well
He just has to give a groan
Or let a cowboy yell.

When mother hears her darling
She hastens to his side,
She treats him as a king
And beams on him with pride.

To make a sturdy man
Her son must have his mush;
It was a doctors plan
He tells all children such.

What makes son so puny?
I give him everything
And he’s getting loony
And doesn’t like to sing.

His hands and legs are small
His skin seems kind of pale
My baby must not fall,
Oh my baby is so frail.

Does my baby need some sugar?
What? You won’t eat a thing?
Come on now darling bugger
Here is your twine and string.

Don’t either want a string?
He wants a funny book
Oh Mama get the thing
And tell me of that crook.

I want to see him shoot,
I saw him in the show;
The one that got the loot
And carried off the dough.

Superman’s surely smart
And I drempt about his fight
He just stabbed him in the heart.
Ma, where’s my appetite?

Morals spring from good tales
And this one has one too
To those who shun a jail,
Or care much what they do.

This boy needs some exercise
And better things to read,
And he should early rise
And needs a better feed.

The moral is don’t pet.
And get your son a job.
The work will check his fret,
And he won’t think to rob.