When Papa's sick, my goodness sakes!
Such awful, awful times it makes.
He speaks in, oh! such lonesome tones,
And gives such ghas'ly kind of groans,
And rolls his eyes and holds his head,
And makes Ma help him up to bed,
While Sis and Bridget run to heat
Hot-water bags to warm his feet,
And I must get the doctor quick,—
We have to jump when Papa's sick.
When Papa's sick Ma has to stand
Right‘ side the bed and hold his hand,
While Sis, she has to fan an’ fan,
For he says he's “a dyin’ man,”
And wants the children round him to
Be there when “sufferin’ Pa gets through”;
He says he wants to say good-by
And kiss us all, and then he'll die;
Then moans and says his “breathin'' s thick”,—
It's awful sad when Papa's sick.
When Papa's sick he acts that way
Until he hears the doctor say,
“You've only got a cold, you know;
You'll be all right‘ n a day or so”;
And then — well, say! you ought to see —
He's different as he can be,
And growls and swears from noon to night
Just‘ cause his dinner ai n't cooked right;
And all he does is fuss and kick,—
We're all used up when Papa's sick.