The neighborhood tomboy is four year old
With big brown eyes and hair like gold.
She rises early and stays up late.
She climbs the fence, and rides the gate.
In cowboy boots and a pair of jeans
Her flowing round face is seldom clean.
With dirty hands she plods along.
usually singing some little song.
Or whistling her one note - tweet, tweet, tweet,
As she goes wondering down the street
There's no girls to play with, just little boys,
She really likes their kind of toys.
Once in a while she will play with her doll,
But this doesn't last long at all,
It's football, or baseball, or cowboy and such.
These are the things she like so much.
When Sunday comes, at mother's request
She reluctantly dons a frilly dress,
Her face is clean, her hair in curl,
Alas! We again have a sweet little girl.
But as Monday comes lose or win,
We'll have our tomboy back again,
Rough and ready and rearing to go,
To the gret outdoors,
Come rain, shine, or snow.