Classic Poem

Come all young men and maidens, come listen to my rhyme,
I will tell you what you are doing, now at this present time;
You are taking from your parents your time and youthful days
And spending them in folly and many wicked ways.

At the age of eighteen he thinks he is very smart,
He thinks he knows it all while his parents know a part;
And many other things too tedious for me to name.
They have been your protector, why will you give them shame?

In hardships, toil and trouble, with you they've had a care,
In poverty and riches with them you have had a share.
No matter what he does he will have some place to flirt,
He'll order his old mother to wash and starch his shirt.

" Stop, " says the old man, " my son, you must not go.
Our work is all behind and that you know is so. "
" I can't help it, old man; I am bound to have some fun;
Just do your work yourself, Dad, or let it go undone. "

Perhaps he's gone a-courtin', no one but him can tell,
He sits down by his sweetheart, perhaps she loves him well;
He'll sit a while cross-legged with now and then a joke,
Just watch him chew tobacco while his Daddy does the work.

Some girls are just as guilty, as you will plainly see.
They make the case a great deal worse by being most too free;
On every slight occasion they're bound and sure to go,
They will disobey their mothers to hunt them up a beau.

When they go to church they are dressed like toys,
They cannot hear the preacher for looking at the boys.
To every show and frolic they are bound and sure to go,
They are all the time a-thinking how they're goin' to catch a beau.

I hope you won't be angry while to you I sing a song,
Although it is not witty it tells to you your wrong;
And if you should get angry it's this we're sure to know
That you have been a-flirting to hunt you up a beau.