Thereās been a young stranger at our house, A baby whom nobody knew; Who hated his brother, his father, his mother, And made them aware of it, too.
He stayed with us nearly a fortnight And carried a grouch all the while, Nor promise nor present could make him look pleasant; He hadnāt the power to smile.
He cried when he couldnāt have something; He cried just as hard when he could; Kind words by the earful but made him more tearful, And scoldings did just as much good.
He stormed when his meals werenāt ready, And when they were ready, he screamed. He went to bed growling, got up again howling And quarreled and snarled as he dreamed.