The Plaint of the Youngest Son.
When dad has worn his pants two years
They’re passed to brother John;
Then mother trims them with the shears,
and William puts them on.
When William’s legs too long have grown
The trousers fail to hide ‘em,
So Walter claims them for his own
And stows himself inside ‘em.
Next, Sam’s fat legs they close invest,
and when they won’t stretch tighter
They’re turned and shortened, washed and pressed,
And fixed on me — the writer.
Ma works them into rugs and caps
When I have burst the stitches.
At doomsday we shall see perhaps
The last of dad’s old breeches.
– London Tit-Bits.
The Evening News (Lincoln, Nebraska) Oct 1, 1892