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N afternoons, when baby boy has had a splendid nap,

And sits, like any monarch on his throne, in nurse's lap,

In some such wise my handkerchief I hold before my face,

And cautiously and quietly I move about the place;

Then, with a cry, I suddenly expose my face to view,

And you should hear him laugh and crow when I say "Booh!"

Sometimes the rascal tries to make believe that he is scared,

And really, when I first began, he stared, and stared, and stared;

And then his under lip came out and farther out it came,

Till mamma and the nurse agreed it was a "cruel shame"—

But now what does that same wee, toddling, lisping baby do

But laugh and kick his little heels when I say "Booh!"

He laughs and kicks his little heels in rapturous glee, and then

In shrill, despotic treble bids me "do it all aden!"

And I—of course I do it; for, as his progenitor,

It is such pretty, pleasant play as this that I am for!

And it is, oh, such fun! and I am sure that we shall rue

The time when we are both too old to play the game of "Booh!"