---
title: Improvement Era
description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930.
authors:
  - Stewart, M. A.
collections:
  - periodicals
tags:
  - magazine
  - improvement-era
periodical: Improvement Era
volume: 12
number: 3
published: 1909-01
publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations
publisher_place: Salt Lake City
language: en
type: magazine
reference: "Stewart, M. A., \"Grandpa's Boy,\" *Improvement Era* 12, no. 3 (January 1909): 199–200."
source:
  url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera1203unse
  transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers.
  identifier: improvementera1203unse
start_page: 199
end_page: 200
rights:
  status: public-domain
  basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1909-01)
  source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera1203unse
  publication_year: 1909
  note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1909, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright.
---

# Grandpa's Boy

<!-- page:199 -->

GRANDPA'S BOY-
(For the Improvement Era.)
"0 grandpa, dear," said Tommy,
His eyes ablaze with glee,
"Do you remember, grandpa,
When jou was young, like me?
And did you go a swimming,
When mama said 'hugh ugh;'
And then come back and tell 'er.
You tho't she said, 'ugh hugh."
' 'Pray tell me truly, grandpa,
Did you get a lickin'
When you never done a thing
But chase a neighbor's chicken?
Right well I know, dear grandpa,
Your patient, kind mama
Had something else to do
Besides to whip and jaw.

<!-- page:200 -->

200 IMPROVEMENT ERA.
"She didn't 'spect the children
To stay in every night,
And when they got a whippin',
To say that it was right.
I don't believe it, grandpa,
It don't look good to me;
Hut papa says I'm naughty,
And do not want to see.
"Do you remember, grandpa,
When papa was a boy?
He says, he went to meetin',
And was his 'mother's joy."
Don't look so strangely, grandpa,
My words they must be true;
He also said, 'my father,
Was nearly perfect, too.'
' 'That is, he said you told him,
To ever prize his birth,
And live so that his children,
Might follow him on earth.
Please tell me truly, grandpa,
Did he never once forget,
And wade out in the millpond,
And get his breeches wet?
' ' 'Tis really hard on papa
To live with us down here;
For mama she's a mortal,
And makes mistakes, poor dear;
While I, my goodness, grandpa,
I've done such naughty things,
Should I become an angel,
They'd have to clip my wings!
"But still I love you, grandpa,
Far more than tongue can tell ;
And pray that you and grandma
In peace and love may dwell.
'Tis hard to be an angel;
But still, if I can live
To cheer you, grandma, grandpa,
What more can angels give!"
Mesa, Arizona.
M. A. Stewart