Gird Your Loins, Kiddies!

Don’t Take My Word for It

By Frank Colby

Kiddy Stuff

From St. Joseph: On behalf of the small boys and girls of America, I urge you to start a movement to purge from our vocabulary for all time to come the hateful word “kiddy.” — Mrs. M.B.

Anwswer: Crusader Colby buckles on his armor and sends the youth of America this Rhym-o-gram:

Arise, O, children, in yor wrath;
Come, gather ‘neath the banner
Of Revolution, wild and red!
Rebel against the manner
In which the grown-up simpleton
(The addle-brained and giddy),
With idiotic smile refers
To each of you as “kiddy.”

Discard the ball and paper doll;
Throw down the toy and rattle.
Come, gird your loins with rubber pants;
March on, enfants, to battle!
who calls you “kiddy,” smite him down,
Bite, claw, scratch, gouge, and kick;
And pound into his silly pate
That “kiddy” makes you sick!

We’ll organize a panzer troop
Of tricycles and scooters.
A regiment of yearlings will
Let fly with spit-ball shooters.
And in three-cornered uniforms
We’ll blitz, O, chickabillies,
The half-wit, drooling enemy
Who speaks of us as “kiddies”!

Get rough, get tough, bambino.
Eat
Your spinach; quaff your milk.
And tear them limb from limb, the dolts
Who purr, as smooth as silk;
“Dear itty bitty kiddies.” Faugh!
We’ve had enough of that.
This be your ultimatum: “Die,
Or learn to call me BRAT!”

Pittsburgh Post-Gazette – Oct. 23, 1941

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