Our House

We play at our house and have all sorts of fun,
And there is always a game when supper is done;
And at our house there is marks on the walls and the stairs,
And some terrible scratches on some of the chairs;
And mother says that our house is surely a fright,
But father and I say that our house is all right.


At our house we laugh and we sing and we shout,
And whirl all the chairs and the tables about,
And I hassle my father and I get him down too,
And he is all out of breath when the fighting is through;
And mother says our house is surely a sight,
But father and I say that our house is all right.


I have been to houses with father where I had
To sit in a chair like a good little lad,
And there wasn’t a mark on the walls and the chairs,
And the stuff that we have couldn’t come up to theirs;
And father said to mother that for all of their joy
He wouldn’t change places and give up his boy.


They never have races nor hassles or fights.
Because they have no children to play with at nights;
And their walls are all clean and their curtains hang straight,
And everything is shiny and right up to date;
But father says with all of its racket and fuss,
He would rather by far live at our house with us.

by Edgar Guest