The Dirty Boy (And What Befell Him) Poem by Morgan Michaels

Jack, Jack, the Packer's son
was very fond of spitting-
and never under any terms
would hear a thing of quitting.

'I love to spit', cracked Jack, 'in fact,
I love its every aspec';
I like to do it privately
But even more in public'.

His mother pleaded 'stop that, Jack! '
But dared not whack the child
for that, she'd often read in books
would make him crass and wild.

His teacher said, 'Jack, please don't spit-'
the boy would spit twice over-
nor would he cease from doing it
on Sundays or Passover.

Serious John and little Mim
appealed as fellow kids-
they gently told him what was wrong
and of the harm he did.

'Spitting is evil', said John, and breeds
all kinds of diagnoses:
pinta, glanders and no less,
tuberculosis bovis.'