The Immortal Little Willie

When searching for the origins of "Little Willies", I stumbled on this piece by Eugene Field which appears to have been composed in 1895 and published in 1929 ("Ruthless Rhymes" was first published in 1898). Though it was an interesting find, I have my doubts that it was the turning point for transposing "Ruthless Rhymes" into "Little Willies".

Afterall, it's not a quatrain and not even close to ruthless. In fact, if you take the time to read the entire piece, you'll find it's quite sweet and sentimental and much more likely to elicit "oohs" than "eeewwws".

When Willie was a little boy,
Not more than five or six,
Right constantly he did annoy
His mother with his tricks.
Yet not a picayune cared I
For what he did or said,
Unless, as happened frequently,
The rascal wet the bed.

Closely he cuddled up to me
And put his hand in mine,
'Till all at once I seemed to be
Afloat in seas of brine.
Sabean odors clogged the air,
And filled my soul with dread,
Yet I could only grin and bear
When Willie wet the bed.

'Tis many times that rascal has
Soaked all the bed-clothes through,
Whereat I'd feebly light the gas
And wonder what to do.
Yet there he lay, so peaceful-like,
God bless his curly head!
I quite forgave the little tyke
For wetting of the bed.

Ah, me! those happy days have flown,
My boy's a father too,
And little Willies of his own
Do what he used to do.
And I, ah! all that's left for me
Are dreams of pleasure fled,
My life's not what it used to be
When Willie wet the bed!

Had I my choice no shapely dame
Should share my couch with me,
No amorous jade of tarnished fame,
No wench of high degree.
But I would choose and choose again
That little curly head,
Who cuddled close beside me when
He used to wet the bed.