Song To Be Sung by the Father of Infant Female Children
My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky;
Contrariwise, my blood runs cold
When little boys go by.
For little boys as little boys,
No special hate I carry,
But now and then they grow to men,
And when they do, they marry.
No matter how they tarry,
Eventually they marry.
And, swine among the pearls,
They marry little girls.
Oh, somewhere, somewhere, an infant plays,
With parents who feed and clothe him.
Their lips are sticky with pride and praise,
But I have begun to loathe him.
Yes, I loathe with loathing shameless
This child who to me is nameless.
This bachelor child in his carriage
Gives never a thought to marriage,
But a person can hardly say knife
Before he will hunt him a wife.
I never see an infant (male),
A-sleeping in the sun,
Without I turn a trifle pale
And think is he the one?
Oh, first he'll want to crop his curls,
And then he'll want a pony,
And then he'll think of pretty girls,
And holy matrimony.
A cat without a mouse
Is he without a spouse.
Oh, somewhere he bubbles bubbles of milk,
And quietly sucks his thumbs.
His cheeks are roses painted on silk,
And his teeth are tucked in his gums.
But alas the teeth will begin to grow,
And the bubbles will cease to bubble;
Given a score of years or so,
The roses will turn to stubble.
He'll sell a bond, or he'll write a book,
And his eyes will get that acquisitive look,
And raging and ravenous for the kill,
He'll boldly ask for the hand of Jill.
This infant whose middle
Is diapered still
Will want to marry My daughter Jill.
Oh sweet be his slumber and moist his middle!
My dreams, I fear, are infanticiddle.
A fig for embryo Lohengrins!
I'll open all his safety pins,
I'll pepper his powder, and salt his bottle,
And give him readings from Aristotle.
Sand for his spinach I'll gladly bring,
And Tabasco sauce for his teething ring.
Then perhaps he'll struggle though fire and water
To marry somebody else's daughter.
Ogden Nash's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Song To Be Sung by the Father of Infant Female Children by Ogden Nash )
Did you read them?
- The ones we Love, Leroy Numa
- Unriven, Saiom Shriver
- Mid-City's Nursery Rhyme, James B. Earley
- Mum's Birthday, Raghda Ashraf Soliman
- Limerick-14, DEEPAK KUMAR PATTANAYAK
- When My Ship Comes In, Mawunyo Adjei
- With elegant grace she overflowed, Erato
- My Words, Asit Kumar Sanyal
- Sealed, Valerie Dohren
- Enamored Love, Lilly Emery
Poem of the Day
- Identity, Cyrus Diaz
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- No Man Is An Island, John Donne
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Udiah (witness to Yah)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
- Heather Burns