What names would they christen him with
If they’d see him sit
At the table, drinking his milk
Upon mummy’s silk
A cause for caution.
No proof should display
No lead to hound
Upon commencing his play
On the playground
And thus his lip must be wiped down.
A child made to drink his milk.
Knotted looks of little mens’ business
Overlooked by her care
No eye shall know this bargain
Lest they capture, they capture a good share.