From the Evening Star, April 17, 1914. By Philander Johnson.
When sunshine gets the better of the days so chill and raw,
Dear father gets a hammer and a chisel and a saw.
He says in thoughtful tones that match his stern superior frown,
“A lot o’ things about this shack are getting all run down.
The bells and lights need fixing and the doors are out of plumb.
There’s not a lock or hinge that doesn’t call for oiling some!”
It’s then we see a very anxious look on mother’s face,
As she remarks, “He’s starting in to fool around the place.”
There are grease spots on the carpet; there are scratches on the door.
There are holes and splintered sections in the polished hardwood floor.
If you pause to press a button it will shock you without fail.
The plaster drops in bunches where he tried to drive a nail.
But no one dares to criticize the work that he has done;
So long as father pays the bills, he ought to have his fun.
But there’s a sense of nervousness that nothing can efface
When spring arrives and father starts to fool around the place.
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