The Kick Under the Table

After a man has been married awhile,
And his wife has grown used to his manner and style,
When she knows from the twinkle that lights up his eye
The thoughts he is thinking, the wherefore and why,
And just what he’ll say, and just what he’ll do,
And is sure that he’ll make a bad break ere he’s through,
She has one little trick that she’ll work when she’s able—­
She takes a sly kick at him under the table.

He may fancy the story he’s telling is true,
Or he’s doing the thing which is proper to do;
He may fancy he’s holding his own with the rest,
The life of the party and right at his best,
When quickly he learns to his utter dismay,
That he mustn’t say what he’s just started to say. 
He is stopped at the place where he hoped to begin,
By his wife, who has taken a kick at his shin.

If he picks the wrong fork for the salad, he knows
That fact by the feel of his wife’s slippered toes. 
If he’s started a bit of untellable news,
On the calf of his leg there is planted a bruise. 
Oh, I wonder sometimes what would happen to me
If the wife were not seated just where she could be
On guard every minute to watch every trick,
And keep me in line all the time with her kick.

Leader of the Gang

Seems only just a year ago that he was toddling round the place
In pretty little colored suits and with a pink and shining face. 
I used to hold him in my arms to watch when our canary sang,
And now tonight he tells me that he’s leader of his gang.

It seems but yesterday, I vow, that I with fear was almost dumb,
Living those dreadful hours of care waiting the time for him to come;
And I can still recall the thrill of that first cry of his which rang
Within our walls.  And now that babe tells me he’s leader of his gang.

Gone from our lives are all the joys which yesterday we used to own;
The baby that we thought we had, out of the little home has flown,
And in his place another stands, whose garments in disorder hang,
A lad who now with pride proclaims that he’s the leader of his gang.

And yet somehow I do not grieve for what it seems we may have lost;
To have so strong a boy as this, most cheerfully I pay the cost. 
I find myself a sense of joy to comfort every little pang,
And pray that they shall find in him a worthy leader of the gang.

Ma and the Ouija Board

I don’t know what it’s all about, but Ma says that she wants to know
If spirits in the other world can really talk to us below. 
An’ Pa says, “Gosh! there’s folks enough on earth to talk to, I should
    think,
Without you pesterin’ the folks whose souls have gone across the brink.” 
But Ma, she wants to find out things an’ study on her own accord,
An’ so a month or two ago she went an’ bought a ouija board.