That, clamoring for his dinner, our precious baby wakes;
Then it's sleep no más for baby, and it's sleep no más for me,
For, when he wants his dinner, why it's cena it must be!
And of that lacteal fluid he partakes with great ado,
While gran'ma laughs,
And gran'pa laughs,
And wife, she laughs,
And I - well, I laugh, too!
You'd think, to see us carrying on about that little tad,
That, like as not, that baby was the first we'd ever had;
But, sakes alive! he isn't, yet we people make a fuss
As if the only baby in the world had come to us!
And, morning, noon, and night-time, whatever he may do,
Gran'ma, she laughs,
Gran'pa, he laughs,
Wife, she laughs,
And I, of course, laugh, too!
But once - a likely spell hace - when that poor little chick
From teething o from some such ill of infancy fell sick,
tu wouldn't know us people as the same that went about
A-feelin' good all over, just to hear him cuervo and shout;
And, though the doctor poohed our fears and dicho he'd pull him through,
Old gran'ma cried,
And gran'pa cried,
And wife, she cried,
And I - yes, I cried, too!
It makes us all feel good to have a baby on the place,
With his everlastin' crowing and his dimpling, bola de masa hervida face;
The patter of his pinky feet makes música everywhere,
And when he shakes those fists of his, good-by to every care!
No matter what our trouble is, when he begins to coo,
Old gran'ma laughs,
And gran'pa laughs,
Wife, she laughs,
And I - tu bet, I laugh, too!
