I knowa little bright-eyed boyWho lives not far away,And though he is his mother’s joy,He plagues her, too, they say.For when his task he’s bid to do,He sits him down and cries, “Boo-hoo!I can’t! I can’t! I can’t! I can’t! I can’t!”Yes! whether he’s to practise well,Or do his horrid sums,Or “Hippopotamus” to spell,Or clean to wash his thumbs:It matters not, for with a frownThe corners of his mouth go down,—“I can’t! I can’t! I can’t! I can’t! I can’t!”Oh! what a joyful day ’twill beFor mother and for son,When smiling looks they both shall seeBeneath the smiling sun.For in his heart he knows ’tis stuff,And knows that if he tries enough,He can! he can! he can! he can! he can!
I knowa little bright-eyed boyWho lives not far away,And though he is his mother’s joy,He plagues her, too, they say.For when his task he’s bid to do,He sits him down and cries, “Boo-hoo!I can’t! I can’t! I can’t! I can’t! I can’t!”Yes! whether he’s to practise well,Or do his horrid sums,Or “Hippopotamus” to spell,Or clean to wash his thumbs:It matters not, for with a frownThe corners of his mouth go down,—“I can’t! I can’t! I can’t! I can’t! I can’t!”Oh! what a joyful day ’twill beFor mother and for son,When smiling looks they both shall seeBeneath the smiling sun.For in his heart he knows ’tis stuff,And knows that if he tries enough,He can! he can! he can! he can! he can!
I knowa little bright-eyed boyWho lives not far away,And though he is his mother’s joy,He plagues her, too, they say.For when his task he’s bid to do,He sits him down and cries, “Boo-hoo!I can’t! I can’t! I can’t! I can’t! I can’t!”
I knowa little bright-eyed boy
Who lives not far away,
And though he is his mother’s joy,
He plagues her, too, they say.
For when his task he’s bid to do,
He sits him down and cries, “Boo-hoo!
I can’t! I can’t! I can’t! I can’t! I can’t!”
Yes! whether he’s to practise well,Or do his horrid sums,Or “Hippopotamus” to spell,Or clean to wash his thumbs:It matters not, for with a frownThe corners of his mouth go down,—“I can’t! I can’t! I can’t! I can’t! I can’t!”
Yes! whether he’s to practise well,
Or do his horrid sums,
Or “Hippopotamus” to spell,
Or clean to wash his thumbs:
It matters not, for with a frown
The corners of his mouth go down,—
“I can’t! I can’t! I can’t! I can’t! I can’t!”
Oh! what a joyful day ’twill beFor mother and for son,When smiling looks they both shall seeBeneath the smiling sun.For in his heart he knows ’tis stuff,And knows that if he tries enough,He can! he can! he can! he can! he can!
Oh! what a joyful day ’twill be
For mother and for son,
When smiling looks they both shall see
Beneath the smiling sun.
For in his heart he knows ’tis stuff,
And knows that if he tries enough,
He can! he can! he can! he can! he can!