Edgar Albert Guest

20 August 1881 - 5 August 1959 / Birmingham / England

His First Long Trousers

SAY, young fellow, just a minute,
They 're your first long trousers, eh?
And your little gray knee breeches
Are forever put away.
And your blouses and your stockings,
And your little caps are gone,
For the shirts and cuffs of manhood,
And you've got a derby on!

Yes — you look well in them, sonny,
Why, I can't believe my eyea!
For it doesn't seem a year ago
Since you were just this size,
And a little, pink-cheeked youngster;
Why, you toddled more than ran
Every night to meet your daddy,
And today you are a man!

Oh, I don't know how to tell you,
But I want to, yes, I do,
That your mother and your daddy
Both are mighty proud of you;
And we 're going to miss the baby
That from us today has gone,
But that baby we'll remember
Though he has long trousers on.

We 're banking on you, sonny,
We'll help you all we can,
But it's up to you, remember,
Now to prove you are a man;
You can make us mighty happy,
You can make us mighty sad,
Just remember it's not manly
To do things you know are bad.

I 'm not going to preach a sermon;
Mother's put your blouse away
And your breeches, and I saw her
Crying over them today;
And I thought perhaps I 'd give you
Just a thought to dwell upon,
Please remember, you 're her baby,
Though you've got long trousers on.
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