While The Billy BoilsSearchWhy can’t the kids be always young?Why must they grow from babyhoodTo hear life’s sordid stanzas sung;By souls too clearly understood?Why must we cut the sunny curlsAnd place the toddler’s shoes away?Why must they grow from boys and girlsTo men and women, gaunt and grey?Why should the toys aside be flung?Why can’t the kids be always young?
There’s always room on mummy’s lap,There’s always room in daddy’s arms,For some wee frail or homely chapWhose mischief moods are chubby charms.He may be pretty or be plain,Or fragile as the hot-house flow’rs,But he came down the Angel Lane;God sent him to us, and he’s ours!And so we’ve said, and so we’ve sung,Why can’t the kids be always young?
Why should they know the wrath of war,The mowing down of myriad men,The rifle’s rap, the cannon’s roar?Why should a care be in their ken?Why can’t some act of God on highKeep them in sweet, unbattled bliss,Where they shall hear no sorrowed sighIn Dad and Mummy’s good-night kiss?Hearing the peace bells always rung,Why can’t the kids be always young?