His Wonderful Choo-Choos

When I see his wonderful choo-choo trains,     Which he daily builds with infinite pains,     Whose cars are a crazy and curious lot -     A doll, a picture, a pepper pot,     A hat, a pillow, a horse, a book,     A pote, a mintie, a button hook,     A bag of tobacco, a piece of string,     A pair of wubbas, a bodkin ring,     A deck of twos and a paper box,     A brush, a comb and a lot of blocks -     When I first gaze on his wonderful trains,     Which he daily builds with infinite pains,     I laugh, and I think to myself, "O gee!     Was ever a child as cute as he?"     But when he's gone to his cozy nest,     From the toil of his strenuous day to rest,     And when I gaze on his trains once more,     Where they lie, abandoned, across the floor,     And when the terrible task I face     Of putting each "Pullman" back in its place,     I groan a little, and think, "O gee!     Was ever a child as mean as he?"