All that you are seems excellent to me,
Except your mother, who's much more at leisure
Than mothers ought to be.

Find her a fad, a job, an occupation,
Eugenics, dancing, uplift, yes, or crime,
Set her to work for her Emancipation--
That takes a lot of time.

Or, if the suffrage doctrine fails to charm her,
There are the Antis--rather in her line--
Guarding the Home from Maine to Alabama
Would keep her out of mine.




The Newer Lullaby


("Good heavens, when I think what the young boy of to-day is growing up
to I gasp. He has too many women around him all the time. He has his
mother when he is a baby."--_Bernard Fagin, Probation Officer_.)


Hush-a-bye, baby,
Feel no alarm,
Gunmen shall guard you,
Lest Mother should harm.
Wake in your cradle,