The Little Boy's Lament

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I'm going back to Grandpa's,
I won't come back here no more;
I hear remarks about my feet
A-muddying' up the floor;
They's too much said about my clothes,
The scolding's never done --
I'm going' back to Grandpa's,
Where a boy can have some fun.

I dug up half his garden
A-Gittin' worms for bait;
He said he used to like it
When I laid abed so late;
He said that pie was good for boys
An' candy made 'em grow --
If I can't go to Grandpa's,
I'll turn pirate, first you know.

He didn't make me comb my hair
But once or twice a week;
He wasn't watchin' out for words
I hadn't oughta speak;
He told me stories 'bout the war,
An' injuns shot out west --
Oh' I'm goin' down to Grandpa's
For he knows what boys like best.