System
Every night my prayers I say,
And get my dinner every day;
And every day that I've been good,
I get an orange after food.
The child that is not clean and neat,
With lots of toys and things to eat,
He is a naughty child, I'm sure--
Or else his dear papa is poor.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Related quotes
Give This Child What She Needs
Give this child what she needs
Love
Give this child what she needs
Shelter
Give this child what she needs
Prayers
Give this child what she needs
Some food and water
Give this child what she needs
Good parents
Give this child what she needs
Good manors
Give this child what she needs
A smoke free home
Give this child what she needs
Peace and happiness
Give this child what she needs
To know God
Give this child what she needs
Your guidance
Give this child what she needs
Clothes
Give this child what she needs
Your support
Give this child what she needs
Some family time
Give this child what she needs
A nice bath every day
Give this child what she needs
Some discipline
Give this child what she needs
A warm bed to sleep on
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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God Bless This Child
Billie Holiday / Arthur Herzog Jr.
Them that's got shall get
Them that's not shall lose
So the Bible said and it still is news
Mama may have, Papa may have
But God bless the child that's got his own
That's got his own
Yes, the strong gets more
While the weak ones fade
Empty pockets don't ever make the grade
Mama may have, Papa may have
But God bless the child that's got his own
That's got his own
Money, you've got lots of friends
Crowding round the door
When you're gone, spending ends
They don't come no more
Rich relations give
Crust of bread and such
You can help yourself
But don't take too much
Mama may have, Papa may have
But God bless the child that's got his own
That's got his own
Mama may have, Papa may have
But God bless the child that's got his own
That's got his own
He just worry 'bout nothin'
Cause he's got his own
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Come Home, Father!
'Tis The
SONG OF LITTLE MARY,
Standing at the bar-room door
While the shameful midnight revel
Rages wildly as before.
Father, dear father, come home with me now!
The clock in the steeple strikes one;
You said you were coming right home from the shop,
As soon as your day's work was done.
Our fire has gone out our house is all dark
And mother's been watching since tea, --
With poor brother Benny so sick in her arms,
And no one to help her but me. --
Come home! come home! come home! --
Please, father, dear father, come home. --
Hear the sweet voice of the child
Which the night winds repeat as they roam!
Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers?
"Please, father, dear father, come home."
Father, dear father, come home with me now!
The clock in the steeple strikes two;
The night has grown colder, and Benny is worse
But he has been calling for you.
Indeed he is worse Ma says he will die,
Perhaps before morning shall dawn; --
And this is the message she sent me to bring
"Come quickly, or he will be gone." --
Come home! come home! come home! --
Please, father, dear father, come home. --
Hear the sweet voice of the child
Which the night winds repeat as they roam!
Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers?
"Please, father, dear father, come home."
Father, dear father, come home with me now!
The clock in the steeple strikes three;
The house is so lonely the hours are so long
For poor weeping mother and me.
Yes, we are alone poor Benny is dead,
And gone with the angels of light; --
And these were the very last words that he said
"I want to kiss Papa good night." --
Come home! come home! come home! --
Please, father, dear father, come home. --
Hear the sweet voice of the child
Which the night winds repeat as they roam!
Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers?
"Please, father, dear father, come home."
poem by Henry Clay Work
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Three children
Three little children.
One with a home.
One sitting on a thrown.
The last child only skin and bones.
One child lives happily with his family.
One child sits alone; his family won’t spare the time
The last child watches his mother die.
One child has a few new toys.
One child has the best toys anyone can imagine.
The last child plays with sticks and stones.
One child attends public school.
One child stays home and studies alone.
The last child has to cook and has never opened a book.
The children become men.
One man is off to war.
One man is sitting behind a jail door.
The last man is very far from poor.
poem by Yvette Carbajal
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God Bless The Child
Billie holiday / arthur herzog jr.
Them thats got shall get
Them thats not shall lose
So the Bible said and it still is news
Mama may have, papa may have
But God bless the child thats got his own
Thats got his own
Yes, the strong gets more
While the weak ones fade
Empty pockets dont ever make the grade
Mama may have, papa may have
But God bless the child thats got his own
Thats got his own
Money, youve got lots of friends
Crowding round the door
When youre gone, spending ends
They dont come no more
Rich relations give
Crust of bread and such
You can help yourself
But dont take too much
Mama may have, papa may have
But God bless the child thats got his own
Thats got his own
Mama may have, papa may have
But God bless the child thats got his own
Thats got his own
He just worry bout nothin
Cause hes got his own
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Found A Reason
(reed)
Pa papa papa papa
Pa papa papa papa
Pa papa papa papa
Pa papa papa papa
I found a reason to keep living
Oh and the reason, dear, is you
I found a reason to keep singing
Oh and the reason, dear, is you
Oh I do believe
If you dont like things you live
For some place you never gone before
Pa papa papa papa
Pa papa papa papa
Pa papa papa papa
Pa papa papa papa
Honey, I found a reason to keep living
And you know the reason, dear its you
And Ive walked down lifes lonely highways
Hand in hand with myself
And I realized how many paths have crossed between us
Oh I do believe
Youre all what you perceive
What come is better that what came before
Oh I do believe
Youre all what you perceive
What come is better that what came before
Pa papa papa papa
Pa papa papa papa
Pa papa papa papa
Pa papa papa papa
And youd better come, come come, come to me
Come come, come to me
Pa papa papa pa
song performed by by Velvet Underground
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If I were dead
'IF I were dead, you'd sometimes say, Poor Child!'
The dear lips quiver'd as they spake,
And the tears brake
From eyes which, not to grieve me, brightly smiled.
Poor Child, poor Child!
I seem to hear your laugh, your talk, your song.
It is not true that Love will do no wrong.
Poor Child!
And did you think, when you so cried and smiled,
How I, in lonely nights, should lie awake,
And of those words your full avengers make?
Poor Child, poor Child!
And now, unless it be
That sweet amends thrice told are come to thee,
O God, have Thou no mercy upon me!
Poor Child!
poem by Coventry Patmore
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God Bless The Child
Written by Billie Holiday
Then that's got shall get,
them that's not shall loose,
so the Bible said and it still is news.
Mama may have, papa may have,
but God bless the child that's got his own,
that's got his own.
Well the strong gets more,
while the weak ones fade,
empty pokets don't ever make the grade.
Mama may have, papa may have,
but God bless the child that's got his own,
that's got his own.
Money, you've got lots of friends
crowding round your door
when it's gone and spending ends
they don't come round no more
Rich relations give
crusts of bread and such
you can help yourself
but don't take too much
Mama may have, papa may have,
but God bless the child that's got his own,
that's got his own.
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who Will Cry?
Who will cry for the little child who goes for days without food?
Who will cry for the little child who parents beat them?
Who will cry for the little child who is mistreated for being different?
Who will cry for the little child who goes unloved?
Who will cry for the little child whose stomach is swelled up?
Who will cry for the little child who doesn't have clothes to wear?
Who will cry for the little child who is shunned for not being popular?
Who will cry for the little child who is molested every night?
Who will cry for the little child who's parents are not around?
Who will cry for the little child who has to take care of his self?
Who will cry?
Will you cry?
Cause I have.
poem by Natasha Ligons
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sophia’s Fool’s-Cap
SOPHIA was a little child,
Obliging, good, and very mild,
Yet lest of dress she should be vain,
Mamma still dress'd her well, but plain.
Her parents, sensible and kind,
Wish'd only to adorn her mind;
No other dress, when good, had she,
But useful, neat simplicity.
Though seldom, yet when she was rude,
Or ever in a naughty mood,
Her punishment was this disgrace,
A large fine cap, adorn'd with lace,
With feathers and with ribbons too;
The work was neat, the fashion new,
Yet, as a fool's-cap was its name,
She dreaded much to wear the same.
A lady, fashionably gay,
Did to mamma a visit pay:
Sophia stared, then whisp'ring said,
'Why, dear mamma, look at her head!
To be so tall and wicked too,
The strangest thing I ever knew:
What naughty tricks, pray, has she done,
That they have put that fool's-cap on? '
poem by Ann Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tramp
Tramp
You could call me that
I don't wear continental clothes
Stetson hats, sometimes
(????)
Heh heh
Momma would. Papa too.
I love this child. It is all I know how to do
Heh. Call me country
Right from the words.
I'll answer when you call me.
'Cause baby, if that makes you feel good
Hm.
(???)
Momma would. Papa too.
I love this child. It is all I know how to do
Ha. Now whatever you call me,
Ha ha, I'll even go for that.
'Cause I keep a big, fat bank roll in my pocket, baby
And I'm personal friends with the dealer who owns all the dealerships of all the Cadillacs.
Ha ha!
(???)
Ow!
Ma would. Papa too.
I love this child. It is all I know how to do
Come on child, let's play it
(???)
song performed by by ZZ Top
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Take things for granted
We all take things for granted,
Like we have mobile phones,
A nice warm house,
Clean clothes and clean water,
Fresh food,
And a nice cosy bed.
People in other countries,
Don't have all of that,
They wish they do,
They want clean water,
They want food,
And a warm secure home.
We take other things for granted like:
Education to learn,
Jobs to get money,
Shops to buy food,
Toys, games and computers to entertain,
Also hospitals and cures for diseases.
Poor countries don't get education,
To learn like us,
They don't have jobs to get money,
Or shops to get food,
Or hospitals or games,
They make their own toys and dolls,
From materials near by.
We take loads of things for granted,
We just don't realise it.
Wrote when in a random mood
poem by StaceyLeigh Olner
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A Single Child I Am...
A single child i am,
in my lovely nest,
with my loving dad and mom.
A single child i am,
flowing in the oceans of love
with loneliness all around.
My ways are haunted,
My talks are monologues,
My dreams are aimless,
A single child i am.
No hands to hold me,
No chocolates to share with,
No toys to fight for,
A single child i am.
A single child i am,
with sacks of love to give,
with lots of care to express,
with more of happiness to share,
A single child i am.
poem by Ann Mary Thomas
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Bite Pain
Child
At home...
Play with toys...
Some time
Child
Bite
The toys...
Toys
Not cry
But...
Child was
Cry....
Why...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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In loving memory Of James Morrison (papa)
I wrote this poem while My grandfather was in the hospital, unfortunately, he passed 2 days later. R.I.P Feb 11/08
My dear papa, please if you will hold on.
Find your inner strength, I don't know how to cope if you are gone.
Remember those good old days when you would take me for a tractor ride,
Or remember those good ol days, Where i was always right by your side.
You've always been a dear friend to me, I'm thankful you are in my heart.
It's too soon for you to go now, I'm not ready for you to part.
You've always had my back, I looked up to you, and still do.
Why are these bad things happening to my papa, whom is you.
Please have some faith,
And surely god will keep you safe.
I look back on the good times, and treasure them close in my heart.
I can't loose you now, You've been with me since the start.
I wanted you there to see me graduate, to get out there and start my life.
Or when I have kids, get married and become a wife.
All i can do however is keep you in my prayers forever.
I love you my dear papa,
Don't quit now, never say never!
poem by Ashley Morrison
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Let a child smile
Let a child blissfully grow,
Don’t try and obstruct his natural flow.
Let a child sleep,
Don’t try and break his dreams.
Let a child run,
Don’t try and smack his ear-drum.
Let a child confidently walk,
Don’t try and lure him with your talk.
Let a child create,
Don’t try and teach him to hate.
Let a child be innocent,
Don’t try and show him the art of disguise.
Let a child be naughty,
Don’t try and instruct him to be haughty.
Let a child play,
Don’t try and intentionally spoil his day.
Let a child make mistakes,
Don’t try and show him the stick.
Let a child roam in Sunlight,
Don’t try and hide him from the bright.
Let a child express his thoughts,
Don’t try and be a mental block.
And let a child prosper and SMILE,
Don’t try and expose him to worldly guiles.
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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I was a Child
I was not the one
Who killed my father
I was quite young
When he died.
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
They say he loved me
Willed me grow great
He played with me
We sang in the eves.
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
We hoped for brightness
And for tomorrow
Then he slumped
To breathe his last.
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
Dirge for me I pray
Papa lives no longer
Beady salt water drops
From my sockets.
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
Things happened fast
Leaving me stunned
I racked my brain
I rack it still.
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
I cling onto mama
Perhaps she'll keep
Will console me well
For days gone by.
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
I search her eyes
To find some faith
She must stay here
Ever at my side.
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
She too escapes
Abandons me quick
I am raw and untaught
I have learned no trade.
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
My father's brothers
Like not my face
Gang together, they say
We must squelch him.
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
He must not be great
Like his father
How he struts
Like the old block!
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
This chip will be a cyber
If we lag and tarry
Hound him like the jackal
Aim at his blood.
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
I run fast and scurrily
I fain would live
Great to be like papa
Greater even than he.
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
Now I am a man
I truly can know
I am not too dazed
Even to think.
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
poem by Samuel Munachim
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Monday's Child is Ill
Monday's child is ill, I'm told.
Tuesday's child has caught a cold.
Wednesday's child is down with the flu.
Thursday's child is feeling blue.
Friday's child can't eat any food.
Saturday's child is in a foul mood.
And the child that's born on the seventh day
Is the only child that feels okay.
poem by Bruce Larkin
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Loving The Little Terrors
Mondays child is naughty as hell, stamping their feet and choosing to yell
Tuesdays child is surely posessed, biting and screaming being a pest
Wednesdays child has been a little brat teasing the dog and kicking the cat
Thursdays child woke up in a really bad mood, wont do as their told keeps throwing food
Fridays child....well Fridays child is helpful, kind and happy 'i must say'
you know something i have been conned its pocket money day
oh the joys and the happiness that the little terrors bring
you could never take away the love for your offspring
stephan banks 12th february 2009
poem by Stephan Banks
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Willie's and Nellie's Wish
Willie and Nellie, one evening sat
By their own little cottage door;
They saw a man go staggering by --
Says Willie, "that's Mr. Lanore;
He is just going home from town, where
He has been in a saloon.
When Maggie and I came from school,
Said Maggie, 'please papa, come home.'
"She asked him again, again, to come home.
At last he got angry, and said:
'Maggie, go home -- don't bother me so;
Go home now, and shut up your head.'
Poor girl, she came weeping all the way,
As though her poor heart would break.
She could not play, not a word would say;
With playmates no pleasure could take."
"'Tis the same child," Willie replied;
"I'm sorry for Maggie Lanore.
I wish her papa would sign the pledge,
And try to be a man once more.
He drinks up all the money he earns,
In whiskey, rum, gin and beer;
His home is a home of poverty,
Made so by his own career."
Says Nellie, "I wish Mr. Lanore
Would go to the meeting to-night,
And hear the temperance lecture;
Then perhaps he would try to do right.
One more little home of happiness,
Would be in our midst, I am sure;
Then Maggie Lanore could say with joy.
'My papa don't drink any more.'"
Said Nellie, "I told her never mind,
We would be her friends evermore;
I hoped her papa would sign the pledge,
Then he would not drink any more.
Then smiling through her tears, she said,
'The temperance pledge, you mean;
If papa would sign it, then mamma
And I will take comfort, I ween.'"
"I wonder," says Nellie, "can it be,
The same child I saw go to school?
She wore ragged clothes. I saw her toes
Were peeping out of her old shoes.
She has curly hair, and mild blue eyes;
Can this child be Maggie Lanore?
If it is her, I sincerely wish
Her papa won't drink any more."
poem by Julia A Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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