Classic Poem

Sometimes I think I'll thrash him, good,
He needs it bad, I'm sure;
An' sometimes — well, I b'lieve I would,
'N then I can't endure
T' tech th' 'musin' little kid,
For when he smiles, y' see,
He looks jes' like his mother did,
An' that's enough for me.

I guess a hundred times or more
I've taken him inside
Th' bedroom there, an' closed th' door
An' tried an' tried an' tried
T' bring myself to strike him, once,
Jes' once — an' then I see
His mother's smile on his wet face,
An' that's enough for me.

First thing I know I'm sittin' there
Pettin' th' little chap,
An' strokin' of his curly hair,
Holdin' him in my lap,
An' dreamin' of her — seein' her
Jes' as she used to be,
An' somethin' makes my eyes t' blur,
An' me cry silently.

He's got the same brown eyes she had,
An' the same silky hair;
Looks so like her, th' little lad,
That — well, I jes' don' dare
To lay a finger rough on him;
'T 'd almos' seem as though
I was a-bein' harsh to her,
An' so I let him go.

He ain't a bad boy — no, he ain't,
Jes' mischievous, that's all.
In all his makeup th' ain't a taint
O' meanness — an' I call
T' mind when things she used to do
Exactly like he does,
I thought was jes' th' cutest an'
Th' dearest ever was.

Y' know sometimes he'll come t' me,
An' say to me: " Say, Dad,
Y' ain't goin' t' whip me, now, are ye?
I ain't been very bad. "
An' then he'll twist, an' sort o' smile;
My eyes get blurred and dim;
Th' ain't enough gold in th' world
T' hire me t' tech him.

Folks say I'm spoilin' him; may be
I am, but I don't dare
T' tech him rough — he looks like she
Did, an' so I don't care.
He puts his little arms aroun'
My neck, an' I can see
Her in his eyes, so big an' brown,
An' that's enough for me.