From the Newark Evening Star, December 5, 1914. By E. A. Brinistool.
When my wife brought the baby up,
She followed modernized advice.
She sterilized each spoon and cup,
And fumigated all the ice.
Each toy and plaything ‘round the place
Received a boric acid bath—
Yes, wife did rigidly embrace
The so-called prophylactic path.
The child received three baths a day
In water which had been distilled
Wife clung to the new-fangled way—
All microbe larvae must be killed.
The picture books were clarified
In royal antiseptic style
By hot air, purged and rarified
Devoid of all bacilli vile.
Yet our babe lacks the healthy look
Of that small filthy Bronson boy
Who plays down there beside the brook,
And makes mud pies with childish joy.
His eyes shine like the stars at night
He’s dirty but is well and strong.
My wife declares he is a “fright,”
And yet, somehow, I fear she’s wrong.
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