My Baby

From The Topeka State Journal, August 28, 1914. By Roy K. Moulton.

(A poem for every father.)

I’ve heard a lot of babies squall,
    I’ve heard ‘em east and west,
But after hearin’ of ‘em all,
    I like my kid’s yell best.

It doesn’t worry me a bit,
    For every time I hear
Him tune up to his heart’s content,
    It’s music to my ear.

Your own kid’s voice is always sweet,
    No matter what the key;
In all the world no one can sing
    So charmingly as he.

You think it’s cute when your own child
    Cuts loose with might and main;
It always is the neighbor’s kid
    That drives you half insane.