Poor little brother in his coat of blue,
Hurt himself sledding, oh what can I do?

I'm in the First Grade and must go to school
In high shoes and garters, I feel like a fool,

Long johns, mittens and aviator caps,
They bundle us up in what Bruner calls wraps,

Still we get colds, and sometimes the flu,
They dress us alike, but what can we do?

'Cause we are too little to have our own way,
So wearing bib-overalls we wait for the day

When Uncle Harold, home from the service so keen
Will bring us some duds, like we've never seen,

Our home life is happy, the bedbugs don't bite,
But somehow I never succeed with a kite,

I'd made 'bout a dozen, but they never flew,
Years later, I found they were all wrong-side to

When a kite from the drug store, Payless by name,
Flew like a dream, though exactly the same

As my utter failures, the difference had been
The instructions said, "Paper side to the wind,"

My Victory Garden grew well 'cause I'd a hoe,
We both liked Wash. while our uncles loved Idaho,

The bike that we shared was a Zephyr by name,
We painted it red 'cause the white was too tame,

Wondering why it was called "Chinese Red"
If Chinamen are yellow, but that's what it said,

The Lazelle kid sold us for thirty-five dollars
A Regent clarinet, a squawking duck caller's

Nearly the same, just a bit nicer lookin',
After four years of honking we admit being took in,

Saturday's payday, we might take a flick in,
Come home all wet and you might take a lickin',

Half a day's hooky, I'm kicked out of school --
Registering now for the draft like a fool,

Get your diploma, then walk down the hall,
Big kids don't have it so good after all

'Cause twenty years later a big fire and then,
We never can go there, ever again.

by D. Edgar Murray