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I Know a naughty little elf
Who never can behave himself;
He beats his drum when grandma's cap
Is nodding for a cozy nap,
And leaves his ball upon the floor
For Uncle James to stumble o'er.
'Twas he who tried to scratch his name
Upon a painted picture frame;
'Twas he who left the gate untied,
Which brindle cow pushed open wide;
'Twas he who nibbled Lucy's cake
She took such pains to mix and bake;
And, though we blamed the tricksy mice,
'Twas he who cracked its fluted ice.
This little elf upset the milk;
He tangled Auntie's broidery silk;
He went to school with muddy shoes,
Though credits very sure to lose;
Against his mother's gentle wish
He took the sugar from the dish;
He lost the pen, and spilled the ink;
This elf we call "I didn't think."
Our house would be a nicer place
If he would never show his face;,
We hope and hope some sunny day
The naughty elf will run away,
for oft he makes our spirits sink—
This troublesome "I didn't think."
—MARGARET L. SANGSTER.
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