I don’t mind lickin’s, now an’ then,
An’ I can even stand it when
My mother calls me in from play
To run some errand right away.
There’s things ’bout bein’ just a boy
That ain’t all happiness an’ joy,
But I suppose I’ve got to stand
My share o’ trouble in this land,
An’ I ain’t kickin’ much — but, say,
The worst of parents is that they
Don’t realize just how they spoil
A feller’s life with castor oil.
Of all the awful stuff, Gee Whiz!
That is the very worst there is.
An’ every time if I complain,
Or say I’ve got a little pain,
There’s nothing else that they can think
'Cept castor oil for me to drink.
I notice, though, when Pa is ill,
That he gets fixed up with a pill,
An’ Pa don’t handle Mother rough
An’ make her swallow nasty stuff;
But when I’ve got a little ache,
It’s castor oil I’ve got to take.
I don’t mind goin’ up to bed
Afore I get the chapter read;
I don’t mind bein’ scolded, too,
For lots of things I didn’t do;
But, Gee! I hate it when they say,
“Come! Swallow this — an’ right away!”
Let poets sing about the joy
It is to be a little boy,
I'll tell the truth about my case:
The poets here can have my place,
An’ I will take their life of toil
If they will take my castor oil.