The Strenuous Life

That is your father, dear Just going out the door; Oh, he’s been living here For seven years or more! In business he’s so deep He has no time to fret With little girls, but keep Up hope--we’ll meet him yet!

That is your mother, dear, Just getting in the car, She knows that you are here And also who you are! But what with clubs to meet And bridge to play, you see, With hours so short and fleet She’s turned you o’er to me.

But there, my dear, don’t fret, Or let those blue eyes blur, Some time I know you’ll get Acquainted, too, with her. Why, sometimes, in the night When angels vigil keep, She asks if you’re all right And when you went to sleep!

I think you’d like them both, I think they’d both like you, But what with “higher growth” And many things to do They’re simply rushed to death, But there, my dear, don’t cry, If they should stop for breath We’ll meet them bye and bye.