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.