Some people, when they sit to eat,

Prefer to set the table neat.

They want the linen spotless white,

The glasses dazzling in the light,

The silverware in trim array.

But, as for me, I often say

Give me glad childhood’s table-cloth

Well stained with jelly, milk and broth.

Not long in peace could I abide

In houses cold with pomp and pride,

Or dwell where dignity commands

Precision’s care from little hands.

I much prefer the happier place

Illumined by a smiling face,

The dining-room, where soon I know

A glass of milk will over go.

Be mine the room with laughter filled

Where no one frets o’er what is spilled.

For what are table-cloths that they

Should drive all merriment away

And why think accidents a crime,

Especially at dinner-time.

They gather sorrow for their pains

Who make too much of jelly stains.

I should not like always to dine

Where silverware and glasses shine

And linen white outlasts the meal;

Too sad and lonely should I feel.

In table-cloths I take no pride,

I want the children at my side.

My joy is in those splotches red

When jelly dances from the bread.

Relatives are people who

Bring little presents in to you.

They’re more like friends who come to call,

Except you’ve got to learn them all

An’ know their names, so you won’t miss

When mother asks you: “Now, who’s this?”

I’ve got two grandmas, an’ I know

Them both becoz they love me so.

I know my grandpas, when they come

They bring me chocolate bars and gum,

You see how well I’m getting on-

I also know my Uncle John.

Although I’m only half-past three,

My daddy says, it’s good for me

To know so much. I never miss

The right name when they say: “Who’s this?”

It would be awful not to know

Your Aunt Irene and Auntie Flo.

It isn’t often I forget.

I don’t know all my cousins yet

Or what a cousin is at all,

But daddy says when you are small

It proves that you are very smart

If you know half your folks by heart.

Relatives are people who
Bring little presents in to you.
They’re more like friends who come to call,
Except you’ve got to learn them all
An’ know their names, so you won’t miss
When mother asks you: “Now, who’s this?”

I’ve got two grandmas, an’ I know
Them both becoz they love me so.
I know my grandpas, when they come
They bring me chocolate bars and gum,
You see how well I’m getting on?
I also know my Uncle John.

Although I’m only half-past three,
My daddy says, it’s good for me
To know so much. I never miss
The right name when they say: “Who’s this?”
It would be awful not to know
Your Aunt Irene and Auntie Flo.

It isn’t often I forget.
I don’t know all my cousins yet
Or what a cousin is at all,
But daddy says when you are small
It proves that you are very smart
If you know half your folks by heart.

Edgar A. Guest