who complains that his son has turned out badly, has become a rake and threatens to claim his father is mad.
You rue as fact that he's a rake,
a foe to tact you would forsake.
But would you bet against your son,
whose fault as yet is having fun?
Let children go the way they choose:
they will do so by right or ruse;
just trust your genes, you need not gripe:
the kid who weans will soon be ripe.
And if you doubt your son's true worth
then there's no clout in your own birth.
