Suppose you was a kid like me,
And ma would take you on her knee
And fill the wash rag full of soap,
And hold you tight as any rope,
And wash yer eyes and nose and chin,
And 'hind your ears, and ever'thin',
And git some soap suds in yer eye,
And up yer nose, till you 'ist cry!
I bet you'd be as sore as me,
I bet you'd say worse words than "Gee!"
Now wouldn't you?

Suppose you was a kid, I say,
And got washed thirty times a day,
I bet you'd kick and holler, too,
And do things that you shouldn't do.
I bet you'd even cry and bawl,
For you don't have to wash at all!
And what's the use of it, I say?
You 'ist get dirty right away.
And then you have to wash some more!
I bet that it 'ud make you sore!
Now wouldn't it?

When I get growed and am a man
I'll wash on the installment plan.
And all my little girls and boys
Can play around with yells and noise,
And every day wade in the creek--
And only wash 'ist once a week!
And then, 'ist here--and here--and here!
[Points to forehead, cheeks and chin]
And wash with soap 'ist once a year!
Now if you was my little boy,
I bet you'd laugh and shout for joy!
Now wouldn't you?