Just look upon that group of boys,
Brim full of frolic, spunk, and noise,
When, at the word, "The school is done,"
They rush to liberty and fun.
Pell-mell, they run, and jump, and leap,
Tumbling in one promiscuous heap,
Until you wonder by what token
They ’scape with heads and limbs unbroken.
Bold, reckless, cunning, cool, or sly,
What won’t they do? what won’t they try?
They’re up to every kind of scheme,
To test their strength, and let off steam.
’Tis an epitome of life,
Without its shades of care and strife;
Each has his private joke, and cracks it,
Regardless how the other takes it.
And there’s the point—boys take rough jokes
More pleasantly than older folks,
Not heeding much what’s said or done,
So they can have their fill of fun.