For My Sister

The Middle Child
- Ethel M. Kelly

Whenever there is company
And mother sends for us,
It's always 'bout the baby that
They make the biggest fuss.
They say,"She's sweet as can be!"
"Her hair, just see it curl!"
They never say such things to me,
'Cause I'm the middle girl.

And then they say to brother, "Why,
Is this the oldest child?
He'll be a man by and by!"
And after they have smiled
And held his hand, they look at me.
Mamma says, "She's begun
To lose her teeth," and then they laugh--
'Cause I'm the middle one!

Then brother speaks his little piece,
And baby sis is asked to sing;
But no one ever seems to guess
That I do anything.
Although my name is Cynthia,
And Cynthia means "pearl,"
Nobody thinks that I'm sweet,
'Cause I'm the middle girl.

When I grow up, and when I have
A family of my own,
I'll send up for the middle girl
To come down-stairs alone;
And I shall let her speak and sing
And have a lot of fun.
I'll not deny her anything

'Cause she's the middle one!


(I took some liberties with Ms. Kelly's poem. It has been adapted to fit our family.)