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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=390937" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Little Willie</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">When Willie was a little boy,<br> No more than five or six, <br> Right constantly he did annoy<br> His mother with his tricks. <br> Yet not a picayune cared I<br> For what he did or said, <br> Unless, as happened frequently, <br> The rascal wet the bed.<br> Closely he cuddled up to me, <br> And put his hands in mine, <br> Till all at once I seemed to be<br> Afloat in seas of brine. <br> Sabean odors clogged the air, <br> And filled my soul with dread, <br> Yet I could only grin and bear<br> When Willie wet the bed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> 'Tis many times that rascal has<br> Soaked all the bedclothes through, <br> Whereat I'd feebly light the gas<br> And wonder what to do. <br> Yet there he lay, so peaceful like; <br> God bless his curly head, <br> I quite forgave the little tyke<br> For wetting of the bed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Ah me, those happy days have flown. <br> My boy's a father, too, <br> And little Willies of his own<br> Do what he used to do. <br> And I! Ah, all that's left for me<br> Is dreams of pleasure fled! <br> Our boys ain't what they used to be<br> When Willie wet the bed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Had I my choice, no shapely dame<br> Should share my couch with me, <br> No amorous jade of tarnished fame, <br> Nor wench of high degree; <br> But I would choose and choose again<br> The little curly head, <br> Who cuddled close beside me when<br> He used to wet the bed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Eugene+Field">Eugene Field</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=390937" data-title="Little Willie de Eugene Field" data-description="When Willie was a little boy,
 No more than five or six, 
 Right constantly he did annoy
 His mother with his tricks. 
 Yet not a picayune cared I
 For what he did or said, 
 Unless, as happened frequently, 
 The rascal wet the bed.
 Closely he cu..."></div>
</div>
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