Shirttails

Son, would you tuck in your shirttail Was something often heard At home when I was a youngster With harsher action inferred My otherwise kind hearted Mother Had shirttails as a pet peeve That boys were just naturally sloppy Was something she wouldn't believe It didn't seem to matter That action was big in my plan Like building a fort or a tree house Or a game of kick the can As long as my trouser tops covered The tail of my shirt complete Dear Mother seemed quite contented And smiled at her son so neat But catching fly balls and gophers Are surely not meant I'd say For shirttails tucked in and tidy From the start to the end of a day Well now that I'm older I smile Each time I check my belt line And straighten my shirt without thinking Like a habit that's learned over time Some Mothers have talent for teaching Their lessons to boys of school age Who think that neatness can't happen 'Till life's reached a much older stage You see my reflex for shirttails Was taught by a Mother with grace Who sewed to each shirttail bottom Two inches of fancy pink lace!