Guess Again

"I guess I'll help you, daddy."
And daddy can't say "No;"
For if he did, 'twould wound you, kid,
And cause the tears to flow.

"I guess I'll help you, daddy."
And daddy says: "All right,"
And tries to do, ignoring you,
Whatever work's in sight.

But what's the use of trying?
As well be reconciled
To quit and play the game that may
Be pleasing to you, child.

To quit and play, or roughhouse,
Or read, as you elect;
For I'm afraid the guess you made
Was wholly incorrect.

Ringgold Wilmer Lardner

Ringgold Wilmer 'Ring' Lardner was an American sports columnist and short story writer best known for his satirical takes on sports figures and the cultural mores of the Jazz Age. Born on March 6, 1885, in Niles, Michigan, he began his career as a journalist but soon gained fame for his humorous and poignant short stories. His works often featured the American slang vernacular and painted an evocative picture of early 20th-century American life. Lardner passed away on September 25, 1933.

Ringgold Wilmer Lardner

Confession

Ringgold Wilmer Lardner, Simple Poetry

Declaration Of Independence

Ringgold Wilmer Lardner, Simple Poetry

Riddles

Ringgold Wilmer Lardner, Simple Poetry

His Imagination

Ringgold Wilmer Lardner, Simple Poetry

English

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The Eternal Greeting

What is the welcoming word I hear
When I reach home at the close of day?
"Glad you are with us, daddy, dear?"
Something I'd like to hear you say?
No, it is this, invariably:
"Daddy, what have you got for me?"

"Deep affection," I might reply;
What would it profit if I did?
I might answer: "The price to buy
Clothes and edibles for you, kid."
You would repeat, insistently:
"Daddy, what have you got for me?"

Isn't my Self enough for you?
Doesn't my Presence satisfy?
No, that spelling would never do;
You want Presents, a new supply,
When you inquire so eagerly:
"Daddy, what have you got for me?"

'Twould be much nicer and cheaper, son,
If I were welcome without a toy,
But as I'm not, I must purchase one
And take my reward f...

Ringgold Wilmer Lardner

Taste

I can't understand why you pass up the toys
That Santa considered just right for small boys;
I can't understand why you turn up your nose
At dogs, hobby-horses, and treasures like those,
And play a whole hour, sometimes longer than that,
With a thing as prosaic as daddy's old hat.

The tables and shelves have been loaded for you
With volumes of pictures - they're pretty ones, too -
Of birds, beasts, and fishes, and old Mother Goose
Repines in a corner and feels like the deuce,
While you, on the floor, quite contentedly look
At page after page of the telephone book.

Ringgold Wilmer Lardner

The New Plaything

I wonder what your thought will be
And what you'll say and do, sir,
When you come home again and see
What Daddy's got for you, sir.

I wonder if you'll like it, boy,
Or turn away disgusted
(You've often scorned a nice, new toy
For one that's old and busted.)

I wonder if you'll laugh, or cry
And run in fright to mother,
Or just act bored to death, when I
Show you your brand new brother.

Ringgold Wilmer Lardner

Decision Reversed

When I mixed with the shoppers and fought in vain
To get what I sought, in the Christmas rush;
When they stood on my toes in the crowded train,
Or dented my ribs in the sidewalk crush,
I dropped my manners and snarled and swore,
And thought: "It's a bothersome, beastly bore!"

But when, at the Christmas dawn, they brought
My kid to the room where his things were piled,
And when, from my vantage point, I caught
The look on his face, I murmured: "Child,
Your dad was a fool when he snarled and swore,
And called it a bothersome, beastly bore."

Ringgold Wilmer Lardner

His Imagination

One thing that's yours, my little child
Your poor old dad is simply wild
To own. It's not a book or toy;
It's your imagination, boy.
If I possessed it, what a time
I'd have, nor need to spend a dime!

I wish that I could get astride
A broom, and have a horse to ride;
Or climb into the swing, and be
A sailor on the deep blue sea,
Or b'lieve a chair a choo-choo train,
Bound anywhere and back again.

If I could ride as fast and far
On ship or horse, in train or car,
As you, at small expense or none,
If I could have one-half your fun
And do the things that you do, free,
I'd give them back my salary.

Ringgold Wilmer Lardner

Discipline

He couldn't have a doughnut, and it made him very mad;
He undertook to get revenge by screaming at his dad.

"Cut out that noise!" I ordered, and he gave another roar,
And so I put him in "the room" and shut and locked the door.

I left him in his prison cell two minutes, just about,
And, penitent, he smiled at me when I did let him out.

But when he got another look at the forbidden fruit
He gave a yell that they could hear in Jacksonville or Butte.

"Cut out that noise!" I barked again. "Cut out that foghorn stuff!
Perhaps I didn't leave you in your prison long enough.

"You want your dad to keep you jailed all afternoon, I guess."
He smiled at me and answered his equivalent for "yes."

Ringgold Wilmer Lardner