By: Ardis E. Parshall - December 11, 2014 That Lad By George E. Gibby When I come home all tired out,No pep left in my knees,And throw myself upon the couch,That lad begins to tease.He takes my pencil from my coat,My watch fob from my vest:He smears my order book with jamAnd climbs upon my chest.He wants to ride a bucking horseSo grabs my new silk tie;And when I see those eyes of his –I simply have to try.We tumble o’er the couch and...
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