There's a little something lying in a dainty, cozy cot,
A something great in miniature, a hero or what not?
While a sunbeam on the threshold seems to brighten up the home,
There is merriment and welcome for the little something come.
He is mottled, he is dimpled, and, though all he says is "gou,"
You think him such a wonder, for he's strikingly like you;
And, though he wakes the echoes with a midnight dance and song,
It's very clear that, in your eyes, "the King can do no wrong."
There's a little something lying in a casket, satin lined,
As if a cherub had been there and left its face behind:
While a shadow on the threshold steals, to fill the home with dread,
There is sighing, there is sobbing, for a little something fled.
First published in Melbourne Punch, 10 September 1903
Author reference site: Austlit.
See also.
A something great in miniature, a hero or what not?
While a sunbeam on the threshold seems to brighten up the home,
There is merriment and welcome for the little something come.
He is mottled, he is dimpled, and, though all he says is "gou,"
You think him such a wonder, for he's strikingly like you;
And, though he wakes the echoes with a midnight dance and song,
It's very clear that, in your eyes, "the King can do no wrong."
There's a little something lying in a casket, satin lined,
As if a cherub had been there and left its face behind:
While a shadow on the threshold steals, to fill the home with dread,
There is sighing, there is sobbing, for a little something fled.
First published in Melbourne Punch, 10 September 1903
Author reference site: Austlit.
See also.
