Oh, where to little boys go
   When there is work for them to do?
They have a disappearing act
   Most mothers can't see through.

When the trash has run over
   There is no little boy in sight;
He's very busy playing ball,
   Unaware of Mom's plight.

When his room is in a mess
   And you harshly call out his name,
He's way out of hearing distance
   And bound to turn up late.

But you bake a chocolate cake
   And He's the first one of the lot;
For when it's time to lick the bowl,
   He's johnny on the spot!