PHILIPER FLASH
YOUNG Philiper Flash was a promising lad,
His intentions were good—but oh, how sad
For a person to think
How the veriest pink
And bloom of perfection may turn out bad.
Old Flash himself was a moral man,
And prided himself on a moral plan,
Of a maxim as old
As the calf of gold,
Of making that boy do what he was told.
And such a good mother had Philiper Flash;
Her voice was as soft as the creamy plash
Of the milky wave
With its musical lave
That gushed through the holes of her patent churn-dash;—
And the excellent woman loved Philiper so,
She could cry sometimes when he stumped his toe,—
And she stroked his hair
With such motherly care
When the dear little angel learned to swear.
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