Mr. Wells 

On Sunday morning, then he comes

To Church, and everybody smells

The blacking and the toilet soap

And camphor balls from Mr. Wells.


He wears his whiskers in a bunch,

And wears his glasses on his head.

I mustn’t call him Old Man Wells—

No matter—That’s what Father said.


And when the little blacking smells

And camphor balls and soap begin,

I do not have to look to know

That Mr. Wells is coming in.