Stans Puer ad Mensam

Attend my words, my gentle knave,         And you shall learn from me     How boys at dinner may behave         With due propriety.     Guard well your hands: two things have been         Unfitly used by some;     The trencher for a tambourine,         The table for a drum.     We could not lead a pleasant life,       And 'twould be finished soon,   If peas were eaten with the knife,       And gravy with the spoon.   Eat slowly: only men in rags       And gluttons old in sin   Mistake themselves for carpet bags       And tumble victuals in.   The privy pinch, the whispered tease,       The wild, unseemly yell —   When children do such things as these,       We say, "It is not well."   Endure your mother's timely stare,       Your father's righteous ire,   And do not wriggle on your chair       Like flannel in the fire.   Be silent: you may chatter loud       When you are fully grown,   Surrounded by a silent crowd       Of children of your own.   If you should suddenly feel bored       And much inclined to yawning,   Your little hand will best afford       A modest useful awning.   Think highly of the Cat: and yet       You need not therefore think   That portly strangers like your pet       To share their meat and drink.  The end of dinner comes ere long       When, once more full and free,   You cheerfully may bide the gong       That calls you to your tea.