There was an old wo-man who liv-ed in a shoe,She had so ma-ny chil-dren, she didn’t know what to do;She gave them some broth, with-out any bread,She whip-ped them all round, and sent them to bed.There was an old womanLived under a hill,And if she’s not goneShe lives there still.We are all in the dumps,For diamonds are trumps,The kittens are gone to St. Paul’s;The babies are bit,The moon’s in a fit,And the houses are built without walls.Hot cross buns, hot cross buns,One a penny, two a penny,Hot cross buns.If your daughters don’t like them,Give them to your sons,One a penny, two a penny,Hot cross buns.See, saw, Mar-ge-ry Daw,Jen-ny shall have a new mas-ter;She shall have but a pen-ny a day,Be-cause she can’t work any fast-er.Ro-bin and Rich-ard are two pret-ty men,They laid in bed till the clock struck ten;Then up starts Ro-bin and looks in the sky,“Oh; bro-ther Rich-ard, the sun’s very high!You go on with the bot-tle and bag,And I’ll come af-ter with jol-ly Jack Nag.”Little Nancy Etticote,In a white petticoat,With a red nose;The longer she stands,The shorter she grows.[a candle.]See saw, sacradown, sacradown,Which is the way to Boston town?One foot up, the other foot down,That is the way to Boston town.Boston town’s changed into a city,But I’ve no room to change my ditty.There was a Piper had a Cow,And he had naught to give her,He pull’d out his pipes and play’d her a tune,And bade the cow consider.The cow considered very well,And gave the piper a penny,And bade him play the other tune,“Corn rigs are bonny.”Sing a song of six-pence, a pock-et full of Rye,Four and twen-ty Black-birds baked in a Pie;When the Pie was o-pen-ed, the Birds be-gan to sing;Was not that a dain-ty dish to set before a King?The King was in the Count-ing-house, count-ing out his mo-ney;The Queen was in the Par-lour, eat-ing bread and ho-ney;The Maid was in the Gar-den, hang-ing out the clothes.By came a Black-bird, and snap-ped off her nose.A diller, a dollar,A ten o’clock scholar,What makes you come so soon?You used to come at ten o’clock,But now you come at noon.Bye, baby bumpkin,Where’s Tony Lumpkin?My lady’s on her death-bed,With eating half a pumpkin.As I was going to sell my eggs,I met a man with bandy legs,Bandy legs and crooked toes,I tripp’d up his heels and he fell on his nose.Once I saw a little bird come hop, hop, hop;So I cried, little bird, will you stop, stop, stop?And was going to the window to say how do you do?But he shook his little tail, and far away he flew.Willy boy, Willy boy, where are you going?I will go with you, if I may.I am going to the meadows, to see them mowing,I am going to see them make the hay.Little Robin Red-breast sat upon a rail,Niddle, naddle, went his head, wiggle, waddle, went his tail;Little Robin Red-breast sat upon a bridle,With a pair of speckle legs, and a green girdle.Ding, dong, darrow,The cat and the sparrow,The little dog burnt his tail,And he shall be whipped to-morrow.Pit, pat, well-a-day,Little Robin flew away;Where can little Robin be?But up in yon cherry tree.Lit-tle Jack Hor-ner sat in a cor-ner,Eat-ing a Christ-mas pie;He put in his thumb, and he took out a plum,And said, “What a good boy am I!”Lit-tle Tom Tuck-erSings for his sup-per;What shall he eat?White bread and but-ter.How shall he cut itWith-out e’er a knife?How will he be mar-ri-edWith-out e’er a wife?Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle,The cow jumped over the moon,The little dog laughed to see such sport,And the dish ran after the spoon.A dog and a cat went out together,To see some friends just out of town;Said the cat to the dog,“What d’ye think of the weather?”“I think, Ma’am, the rain will come down:“But don’t be alarmed, for I’ve an umbrellaThat will shelter us both,” said this amiable fellow.Little Polly FlindersSat among the cindersWarming her pretty little toes!Her mother came and caught her,And whipped her little daughter,For spoiling her nice new clothes.Four and twen-ty tai-lors went to kill a snail,The best man a-mongst them durst not touch her tail.She put out her horns, like a lit-tle Ky-loe Cow.Run, Tai-lors, run, or she’ll kill you all just now.A little cock-sparrow sat on a tree,Looking as happy as happy could be,Till a boy came by, with his bow and arrow,Says he, I will shoot the little cock-sparrow.His body will make me a nice little stew,And his giblets will make me a little pie, too.Says the little cock-sparrow, I’ll be shot if I stay,So he clapped his wings, and flew away.Bless you, bless you, bonny bee;Say, when will your wedding be?If it be to-morrow day,Take your wings and fly away.One day, an old cat and her kittensPut on their bonnets and mittens,And as it was damp, why they put on their clogs;They thought it would be very niceTo go out in search of some mice,—But they ran home again when they saw two fierce dogs.Doctor Foster went to Gloster,In a shower of rain;He stepped in a puddle, up to the middle,And never went there again.John Cook had a little gray mare; he, haw, hum!Her back stood up, and her bones they were bare; he, haw, hum!John Cook was riding up Shuter’s bank; he, haw, hum!And there his nag did kick and prank; he, haw, hum!John Cook was riding up Shuter’s hill; he, haw, hum!His mare fell down and she made her will; he, haw, hum!The bridle and saddle were laid on the shelf; he, haw, hum!If you want any more you may sing it yourself; he, haw, hum!Dingty, diddlety, my mammy’s maid,She stole oranges, I am afraid;Some in her pocket, some in her sleeve,She stole oranges, I do believe.A horse and cartHad Billy Smart,To play with when it pleased him;The cart he’d loadBy the side of the road,And be happy if no one teased him.Who ever saw a rabbitDressed in a riding habit,Gallop off to see her friends, in this style?I should not be surprisedIf my lady is capsized,Before she has ridden half a mile.Boys and girls, come out to play,The moon does shine as bright as day,Leave your supper, and leave your sleep,And meet your play-fellows in the street;Come with a whoop, and come with a call,And come with a good will, or not at all.Up the ladder and down the wall,A half-penny roll will serve us all.You’ll find milk and I’ll find flour,And we’ll have pudding in half an hour.Jog on, jog on, the footpath way,And merrily jump the stile, boys,A merry heart goes all the day,Your sad one tires in a mile, boys.Hush-a-bye, baby, upon the tree top,When the wind blows the cradle will rock,When the bough breaks the cradle will fall,Down tumble cradle and baby and all.DINNER.Miss Kitty was rude at the table one day,And would not sit still on her seat;Regardless of all that her mother could say,From her chair little Kitty kept running away,All the time they were eating the meat.As soon as she saw that the meat was remov’dShe ran to her chair in great haste;But her mother such giddy behavior reprov’d,By sending away the sweet pudding she lov’d,Without giving Kitty one taste.THE NEW DOLL.Miss Jenny and PollyHad each a new Dolly,With rosy-red cheeks and blue eyes,Dress’d in ribands and gauze:And they quarreled becauseThe Dolls were not both of a size.O silly Miss Jenny!To be such a ninny,To quarrel and make such a noise!For the very same dayTheir mama sent awayTheir dolls with red cheeks and blue eyes.GETTING UP.Baby, baby, ope your eye,For the sun is in the sky,And he’s peeping once againThrough the frosty window pane;Little baby, do not keepAny longer, fast asleep.There now, sit in mother’s lap,That she may untie your cap,For the little strings have gotTwisted intosucha knot;Ah! for shame,—you’ve been at playWith the bobbin, as you lay.There it comes,—now let us seeWhere your petticoats can be;O,—they’re in the window seat,Folded very smooth and neat:When my baby older growsSheshall double up her clothes.Now one pretty little kiss,For dressing you so neat as this,And before we go down stairs,Don’t forget to say your pray’rs,For ’tis God who loves to keepLittle babies in their sleep.The Linnet’s Nest.Quick from the garden, Charles ran in,With look of joy, and voice of glee;A Linnet’s nest, Papa, I’ve seen:O come—’tis in the Apple-tree.Four little birds I just could see,And then I ran to tell you here:For Puss was waiting near the tree,And she will get them all, I fear.PLAYING WITH FIRE.I’ve seen a little girl, mama,That had got such a dreadful scar,All down her arms, and neck, and face,I could not bear to see the place.Poor little girl, and don’t you knowThe shocking trick that made her so?’Twas all because she went and didA thing her mother had forbid.For, once, when nobody was by her,This silly child would play with fire;And long before her mother came,Her pin-a-fore was all in flame!In vain she tried to put it out,’Till all her clothes were burnt about,And then she suffered ten times more,All over with the dreadful sore.For many months, before ’twas cured,Most shocking torments she endured;And even now in passing by her,You see what ’tis to play with fire!GRATEFUL LUCY.As Lucy with her Mother walked,She played and gamboled, laughed and talked’Till, coming to the river side,She slipped, and floated down the tide.Her faithful Carlo being near,Jumped in to save his mistress dear;He drew her carefully to shore,And Lucy lives and laughs once more.Dear generous Carlo, Lucy said,You ne’er shall want for meat or bread;For every day before I dine,Good Carlo shall have some of mine.RUN AND PLAY.There, run away, you little things,And romp, and jump, and play,You have been quiet long enough,So run away, I say.George, you and Lucy roll your hoops,You on a stick can ride,And nurse, with baby, run a race,Or any play beside.Or you may play at hounds and hare,And chase it round and round,But, as a fall may often chance,Go on the grassy ground.Or, if you like, beneath the hedgeTo gather wild flowers fair,Go, get your baskets, but be quick,And I will meet you there.And afterwards, Papa will makeOne in your little play,And he will try to run as fastAs you did yesterday.The fresh, fresh air, so softly blows,And there shines out the sun,And active limbs and rosy cheeksWill in the race be won.For little boys and girls may romp,And frisk, and jump, and play,When book and lessons both are done,So run away, I say.THE CUT.Well, what’s the matter? there’s a face,What, has it cut a vein?And it is quite a shocking place;Come, let us look again.I see it bleeds, but never mindThat tiny little drop;I don’t believe you’ll ever findThat crying makes it stop.’Tis sad, indeed, to cry at pain,For any but a baby;Ifthatshould chance to cut a vein,We should not wonder, may be.But such a man as you should tryTo bear a little sorrow:So run along, and wipe your eye,’Twill all be well to-morrow.SLEEPY HARRY.I do not like to go to bed,The sleepy little Harry said;So, naughty Betty, go away,I will not come at all, I say.What a silly little fellow!I should be asham’d to tell her.Betty, you must come and carryVery foolish little Harry.The little birds are better taught,They go to roosting when they ought;And all the ducks and fowls you knowTheywent to bed an hour ago.The little beggar in the street,Who wanders with his naked feet,And has not where to lay his head,O, he’d begladto go to bed.BREAKFAST AND PUSS.Here’s my baby’s bread and milk,For her lip as soft as silk;Here’s the basin, clean and neat;Here’s the spoon of silver sweet;Here’s the stool, and here’s the chairFor my little lady fair.No, you must not spill it out,And drop the bread and milk about;But let it stand before you flat,And pray, remember pussy cat;Poor old pussy cat that purrsAll so patiently for hers.True she runs about the house,Catching, now and then, a mouse.But, though she thinks it very nice,That only makes atinyslice;She don’t forget, that you should stop,And leave poor puss a little drop.Frightened by a Cow.A very young lady,With Susan the maid,Who carried the baby,Were one day afraid.They saw a cow feeding,Quite harmless and still,Yet screamed without heedingThe man at the mill.Who seeing their flutter,Said, “cows do no harm,But give you good butterAnd milk from the farm.”“So don’t have the follyOf running at sightOf a gentle old Mooly,In terror and fright.”THE DUNCE OF A KITTEN.Come, pussy, will you learn to read.I’ve got a pretty book?Nay, turn this way, you must indeed.—Fie, there’s a sulky look.Here is a pretty picture, see,An apple, and great A:How stupid you will ever be,If you do naught but play.Come, A, B, C, an easy task,What any fool can do:I will do any thing you ask,For dearly I love you.Now, how I’m vexed, you are so dull,You have not learnt it half:You will grow up a downright fool,And make all people laugh.Mother so told me, I declare,And made me quite ashamed;So I resolved no pains to spare,Nor like a dunce be blamed.Well, get along, you naughty Kit,And after mice go look;I’m glad that I have got more wit,I love my pretty book.SENSIBLE CHARLES.When Charles was only ten years old,His uncle took him to the play;The night was bad, he caught a cold,And laid in bed the following day.When Charles was well enough to rise,He gently ope’d his uncle’s door;And, to his very great surprise,Begged he would take him there no more.PUT DOWN THE BABY.“O dear Mama,” said little Fred,“Put baby down—take me instead;Upon the carpet let her bePut baby down, and take up me.”No, that, my dear, I cannot do,You know I used to carry you;But you are now grown strong and stout,And you can run and play about.When Fanny is as old as you,No doubt but what she’ll do so too;And when she grows a little stronger,I mean to carry her no longer.DIRTY HANDS.O bless me, Mary, how is this?Your hands are very dirty, Miss;I don’t expect such hands to seeWhen you come in to dine with me.Mama, said little Mary, pray,Shall we have company to-dayThat I should beso veryclean?By whom, pray, am I to be seen?By whom, my girl? why, by Mama,By Brothers, Sisters, and Papa;Pray, do you not most love to seeYour parents, and your family?Be cleanly and polite at home,Then you’re prepared if friends should come:Make it your habit to be clean,No matter then by whom you’re seen.FRANCES AND HENRY.Sister Frances is sad,Because Henry is ill;And she lets the dear ladDo whatever he will will.Left her own little chairAnd got up in a minute,When she heard him declareThat he wished to sit in it.Now from this we can tell,He will never more tease her,But when he is well,He will study to please her.POISONOUS FRUIT.As Tommy and his sister JaneWere walking down a shady lane,They saw some berries, bright and red,That hung around and over head.And soon the bough they bended downTo make the scarlet fruit their own;And part they ate, and part in playThey threw about and flung away.But long they had not been at homeBefore poor Jane and little TomWere taken sick and ill, to bed,And since, I’ve heard, they both are dead.DRESSED OR UNDRESSED.When children are naughty, and will not be drest,Pray, what do you think is the way?Why, often I really believe it is bestTo keep them in night-clothes all day!But then they can have no good breakfast to eat,Nor walk with their mother or aunt,At dinner they’ll have neither pudding nor meat,Nor any thing else that they want.Then who would be naughty and sit all the dayIn night-clothes unfit to be seen?And pray who would lose all their pudding and play,For not being dress’d neat and clean.BAPTISM IN CHURCH.Frances Lorenzo is my name,I scarce can tell you how it came;(One day to church I had to go,And ever since they’ve called me so.)That New Year’s day I shan’t forget,So cold, my limbs seem shaking yet;Nor him who loves the lambs, they said,And poured the water on my head.For folded in his bosom warm,I knew that I was safe from harm;He called my name, and pressed my brow,And said, I was a soldier now.I sat so still, and all aroundWere pleasant looks and sweetest sound;I wondered what it all could mean,O, Mama, take me there again.a. d. f.THE PET LAMB.My own pet Lamb, I long to beFrom envy, pride, and malice free;Patient, and mild, and meek like thee,My own pet Lamb.I long to know my Shepherd’s voice,To make his pleasant ways my choiceAnd in the fold like thee rejoice,My own pet Lamb.Be you to others kind and true,As you’d have others be to you.HYMN.O, Lord! our infant voice we raise,Thy holy name to bless;In daily song of thanks and praise,For mercies numberless.For parents who have taught us right,That Thou art good and true;And though unseen by our weak sightThou seest all we do.Let all our thoughts and actions riseFrom innocence and truth;And Thou, O, Lord! wilt not despiseThe praise of early youth.TIME TO RISE.The Cock who soundly sleeps at night,Rises with the morning light,Very loud and shrill he crows;Then the sleeping ploughman knows,He must leave his bed also,To his morning work to go.And the little Lark does flyTo the middle of the sky;You may hear his merry tuneIn the morning very soon;For he does not like to rest,Idle, in his downy nest.While the cock is crowing shrill,Leave my little bed I will,And I’ll rise to hear the Lark,For it is no longer dark;’Twould be a pity there to stay,When ’tis light and pleasant day.FOR NANNIE.A plum so blue, a cherry red,An orange bright and yellow;A pippin green, as e’er was seen,And peaches rich and mellow.All, all of these will mama giveTo lassie good and bonnie, O,So papa down, to Boston town,And buy them all for Nannie, O.THE PUSSY CAT.Little puss, come here to me,Gently jump upon my knee,And then your pretty eyes I’ll see,But do not scratch.Pray do you ever catch a mouse,As you run up and down the house?I’m sure you do, good Mrs. Puss,With these same claws.Here, share with me this little seat,I never now poor puss will beat,So let me feel how soft your feet,Since you don’t scratch.How very nicely you can draw,Quite out of sight each little claw,And make so soft a velvet paw,Good little puss.I saw a little mouse, you know,Once yonder in the yard below,And pounce you went upon it so,Poor little thing.You loosed it oft, and let it run,Then to pursue it you begun,And seemed to think it made good fun,You cruel puss.But do not tease it so, I pray,Because I’ve heard papa oft say,It was a very cruel way,And should not be.So, pussy, you must kill it quite,Not put it in so great a fright,And seem to glory in the sight;Do you hear, puss?Give to the Father praise,Give glory to the Son;And to the Spirit of His Grace,Be equal honor done.THE FROLICSOME KITTEN.Dear kitten, do lie still, I say,I really want you to be quiet,Instead of scampering away,And always making such a riot!There, only see you’ve torn my frock,And poor mama must put a patch in;I’ll give you a right earnest knock,To cure you of this trick of scratching.——Nay do not scold your little cat,She does not know what ’tis you’re saying.And ev’ry time you give a pat,She thinks you mean it all for playing.But if your pussy understoodThe lesson that you want to teach her,And did shechooseto be so rude,She’d beindeeda naughty creature.Penance for beating a Brother.
There was an old wo-man who liv-ed in a shoe,She had so ma-ny chil-dren, she didn’t know what to do;She gave them some broth, with-out any bread,She whip-ped them all round, and sent them to bed.
There was an old womanLived under a hill,And if she’s not goneShe lives there still.
We are all in the dumps,For diamonds are trumps,The kittens are gone to St. Paul’s;The babies are bit,The moon’s in a fit,And the houses are built without walls.
Hot cross buns, hot cross buns,One a penny, two a penny,Hot cross buns.If your daughters don’t like them,Give them to your sons,One a penny, two a penny,Hot cross buns.
See, saw, Mar-ge-ry Daw,Jen-ny shall have a new mas-ter;She shall have but a pen-ny a day,Be-cause she can’t work any fast-er.
Ro-bin and Rich-ard are two pret-ty men,They laid in bed till the clock struck ten;Then up starts Ro-bin and looks in the sky,“Oh; bro-ther Rich-ard, the sun’s very high!You go on with the bot-tle and bag,And I’ll come af-ter with jol-ly Jack Nag.”
Little Nancy Etticote,In a white petticoat,With a red nose;The longer she stands,The shorter she grows.
[a candle.]
See saw, sacradown, sacradown,Which is the way to Boston town?One foot up, the other foot down,That is the way to Boston town.Boston town’s changed into a city,But I’ve no room to change my ditty.
There was a Piper had a Cow,And he had naught to give her,He pull’d out his pipes and play’d her a tune,And bade the cow consider.
The cow considered very well,And gave the piper a penny,And bade him play the other tune,“Corn rigs are bonny.”
Sing a song of six-pence, a pock-et full of Rye,Four and twen-ty Black-birds baked in a Pie;When the Pie was o-pen-ed, the Birds be-gan to sing;Was not that a dain-ty dish to set before a King?
The King was in the Count-ing-house, count-ing out his mo-ney;The Queen was in the Par-lour, eat-ing bread and ho-ney;The Maid was in the Gar-den, hang-ing out the clothes.By came a Black-bird, and snap-ped off her nose.
A diller, a dollar,A ten o’clock scholar,What makes you come so soon?You used to come at ten o’clock,But now you come at noon.
Bye, baby bumpkin,Where’s Tony Lumpkin?My lady’s on her death-bed,With eating half a pumpkin.
As I was going to sell my eggs,I met a man with bandy legs,Bandy legs and crooked toes,I tripp’d up his heels and he fell on his nose.
Once I saw a little bird come hop, hop, hop;So I cried, little bird, will you stop, stop, stop?And was going to the window to say how do you do?But he shook his little tail, and far away he flew.
Willy boy, Willy boy, where are you going?I will go with you, if I may.I am going to the meadows, to see them mowing,I am going to see them make the hay.
Little Robin Red-breast sat upon a rail,Niddle, naddle, went his head, wiggle, waddle, went his tail;Little Robin Red-breast sat upon a bridle,With a pair of speckle legs, and a green girdle.
Ding, dong, darrow,The cat and the sparrow,The little dog burnt his tail,And he shall be whipped to-morrow.
Pit, pat, well-a-day,Little Robin flew away;Where can little Robin be?But up in yon cherry tree.
Lit-tle Jack Hor-ner sat in a cor-ner,Eat-ing a Christ-mas pie;He put in his thumb, and he took out a plum,And said, “What a good boy am I!”
L
it-tle Tom Tuck-erSings for his sup-per;What shall he eat?White bread and but-ter.How shall he cut itWith-out e’er a knife?How will he be mar-ri-edWith-out e’er a wife?
Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle,The cow jumped over the moon,The little dog laughed to see such sport,And the dish ran after the spoon.
A dog and a cat went out together,To see some friends just out of town;Said the cat to the dog,“What d’ye think of the weather?”“I think, Ma’am, the rain will come down:
“But don’t be alarmed, for I’ve an umbrellaThat will shelter us both,” said this amiable fellow.
Little Polly FlindersSat among the cindersWarming her pretty little toes!Her mother came and caught her,And whipped her little daughter,For spoiling her nice new clothes.
Four and twen-ty tai-lors went to kill a snail,The best man a-mongst them durst not touch her tail.She put out her horns, like a lit-tle Ky-loe Cow.Run, Tai-lors, run, or she’ll kill you all just now.
A little cock-sparrow sat on a tree,Looking as happy as happy could be,Till a boy came by, with his bow and arrow,Says he, I will shoot the little cock-sparrow.
His body will make me a nice little stew,And his giblets will make me a little pie, too.Says the little cock-sparrow, I’ll be shot if I stay,So he clapped his wings, and flew away.
Bless you, bless you, bonny bee;Say, when will your wedding be?If it be to-morrow day,Take your wings and fly away.
One day, an old cat and her kittensPut on their bonnets and mittens,And as it was damp, why they put on their clogs;They thought it would be very niceTo go out in search of some mice,—But they ran home again when they saw two fierce dogs.
Doctor Foster went to Gloster,In a shower of rain;He stepped in a puddle, up to the middle,And never went there again.
John Cook had a little gray mare; he, haw, hum!Her back stood up, and her bones they were bare; he, haw, hum!John Cook was riding up Shuter’s bank; he, haw, hum!And there his nag did kick and prank; he, haw, hum!John Cook was riding up Shuter’s hill; he, haw, hum!His mare fell down and she made her will; he, haw, hum!The bridle and saddle were laid on the shelf; he, haw, hum!If you want any more you may sing it yourself; he, haw, hum!
Dingty, diddlety, my mammy’s maid,She stole oranges, I am afraid;Some in her pocket, some in her sleeve,She stole oranges, I do believe.
A horse and cartHad Billy Smart,To play with when it pleased him;The cart he’d loadBy the side of the road,And be happy if no one teased him.
Who ever saw a rabbitDressed in a riding habit,Gallop off to see her friends, in this style?I should not be surprisedIf my lady is capsized,Before she has ridden half a mile.
Boys and girls, come out to play,The moon does shine as bright as day,Leave your supper, and leave your sleep,And meet your play-fellows in the street;Come with a whoop, and come with a call,And come with a good will, or not at all.Up the ladder and down the wall,A half-penny roll will serve us all.You’ll find milk and I’ll find flour,And we’ll have pudding in half an hour.
Jog on, jog on, the footpath way,And merrily jump the stile, boys,A merry heart goes all the day,Your sad one tires in a mile, boys.
Hush-a-bye, baby, upon the tree top,When the wind blows the cradle will rock,When the bough breaks the cradle will fall,Down tumble cradle and baby and all.
Miss Kitty was rude at the table one day,And would not sit still on her seat;Regardless of all that her mother could say,From her chair little Kitty kept running away,All the time they were eating the meat.
As soon as she saw that the meat was remov’dShe ran to her chair in great haste;But her mother such giddy behavior reprov’d,By sending away the sweet pudding she lov’d,Without giving Kitty one taste.
Miss Jenny and PollyHad each a new Dolly,With rosy-red cheeks and blue eyes,Dress’d in ribands and gauze:And they quarreled becauseThe Dolls were not both of a size.
O silly Miss Jenny!To be such a ninny,To quarrel and make such a noise!For the very same dayTheir mama sent awayTheir dolls with red cheeks and blue eyes.
Baby, baby, ope your eye,For the sun is in the sky,And he’s peeping once againThrough the frosty window pane;Little baby, do not keepAny longer, fast asleep.
There now, sit in mother’s lap,That she may untie your cap,For the little strings have gotTwisted intosucha knot;Ah! for shame,—you’ve been at playWith the bobbin, as you lay.
There it comes,—now let us seeWhere your petticoats can be;O,—they’re in the window seat,Folded very smooth and neat:When my baby older growsSheshall double up her clothes.
Now one pretty little kiss,For dressing you so neat as this,And before we go down stairs,Don’t forget to say your pray’rs,For ’tis God who loves to keepLittle babies in their sleep.
Quick from the garden, Charles ran in,With look of joy, and voice of glee;A Linnet’s nest, Papa, I’ve seen:O come—’tis in the Apple-tree.
Four little birds I just could see,And then I ran to tell you here:For Puss was waiting near the tree,And she will get them all, I fear.
I’ve seen a little girl, mama,That had got such a dreadful scar,All down her arms, and neck, and face,I could not bear to see the place.
Poor little girl, and don’t you knowThe shocking trick that made her so?’Twas all because she went and didA thing her mother had forbid.
For, once, when nobody was by her,This silly child would play with fire;And long before her mother came,Her pin-a-fore was all in flame!
In vain she tried to put it out,’Till all her clothes were burnt about,And then she suffered ten times more,All over with the dreadful sore.
For many months, before ’twas cured,Most shocking torments she endured;And even now in passing by her,You see what ’tis to play with fire!
As Lucy with her Mother walked,She played and gamboled, laughed and talked’Till, coming to the river side,She slipped, and floated down the tide.
Her faithful Carlo being near,Jumped in to save his mistress dear;He drew her carefully to shore,And Lucy lives and laughs once more.
Dear generous Carlo, Lucy said,You ne’er shall want for meat or bread;For every day before I dine,Good Carlo shall have some of mine.
There, run away, you little things,And romp, and jump, and play,You have been quiet long enough,So run away, I say.
George, you and Lucy roll your hoops,You on a stick can ride,And nurse, with baby, run a race,Or any play beside.
Or you may play at hounds and hare,And chase it round and round,But, as a fall may often chance,Go on the grassy ground.
Or, if you like, beneath the hedgeTo gather wild flowers fair,Go, get your baskets, but be quick,And I will meet you there.
And afterwards, Papa will makeOne in your little play,And he will try to run as fastAs you did yesterday.
The fresh, fresh air, so softly blows,And there shines out the sun,And active limbs and rosy cheeksWill in the race be won.
For little boys and girls may romp,And frisk, and jump, and play,When book and lessons both are done,So run away, I say.
Well, what’s the matter? there’s a face,What, has it cut a vein?And it is quite a shocking place;Come, let us look again.
I see it bleeds, but never mindThat tiny little drop;I don’t believe you’ll ever findThat crying makes it stop.
’Tis sad, indeed, to cry at pain,For any but a baby;Ifthatshould chance to cut a vein,We should not wonder, may be.
But such a man as you should tryTo bear a little sorrow:So run along, and wipe your eye,’Twill all be well to-morrow.
I do not like to go to bed,The sleepy little Harry said;So, naughty Betty, go away,I will not come at all, I say.
What a silly little fellow!I should be asham’d to tell her.Betty, you must come and carryVery foolish little Harry.
The little birds are better taught,They go to roosting when they ought;And all the ducks and fowls you knowTheywent to bed an hour ago.
The little beggar in the street,Who wanders with his naked feet,And has not where to lay his head,O, he’d begladto go to bed.
Here’s my baby’s bread and milk,For her lip as soft as silk;Here’s the basin, clean and neat;Here’s the spoon of silver sweet;Here’s the stool, and here’s the chairFor my little lady fair.
No, you must not spill it out,And drop the bread and milk about;But let it stand before you flat,And pray, remember pussy cat;Poor old pussy cat that purrsAll so patiently for hers.
True she runs about the house,Catching, now and then, a mouse.But, though she thinks it very nice,That only makes atinyslice;She don’t forget, that you should stop,And leave poor puss a little drop.
A very young lady,With Susan the maid,Who carried the baby,Were one day afraid.
They saw a cow feeding,Quite harmless and still,Yet screamed without heedingThe man at the mill.
Who seeing their flutter,Said, “cows do no harm,But give you good butterAnd milk from the farm.”
“So don’t have the follyOf running at sightOf a gentle old Mooly,In terror and fright.”
Come, pussy, will you learn to read.I’ve got a pretty book?Nay, turn this way, you must indeed.—Fie, there’s a sulky look.
Here is a pretty picture, see,An apple, and great A:How stupid you will ever be,If you do naught but play.
Come, A, B, C, an easy task,What any fool can do:I will do any thing you ask,For dearly I love you.
Now, how I’m vexed, you are so dull,You have not learnt it half:You will grow up a downright fool,And make all people laugh.
Mother so told me, I declare,And made me quite ashamed;So I resolved no pains to spare,Nor like a dunce be blamed.
Well, get along, you naughty Kit,And after mice go look;I’m glad that I have got more wit,I love my pretty book.
When Charles was only ten years old,His uncle took him to the play;The night was bad, he caught a cold,And laid in bed the following day.
When Charles was well enough to rise,He gently ope’d his uncle’s door;And, to his very great surprise,Begged he would take him there no more.
“O dear Mama,” said little Fred,“Put baby down—take me instead;Upon the carpet let her bePut baby down, and take up me.”
No, that, my dear, I cannot do,You know I used to carry you;But you are now grown strong and stout,And you can run and play about.
When Fanny is as old as you,No doubt but what she’ll do so too;And when she grows a little stronger,I mean to carry her no longer.
O bless me, Mary, how is this?Your hands are very dirty, Miss;I don’t expect such hands to seeWhen you come in to dine with me.
Mama, said little Mary, pray,Shall we have company to-dayThat I should beso veryclean?By whom, pray, am I to be seen?
By whom, my girl? why, by Mama,By Brothers, Sisters, and Papa;Pray, do you not most love to seeYour parents, and your family?
Be cleanly and polite at home,Then you’re prepared if friends should come:Make it your habit to be clean,No matter then by whom you’re seen.
Sister Frances is sad,Because Henry is ill;And she lets the dear ladDo whatever he will will.
Left her own little chairAnd got up in a minute,When she heard him declareThat he wished to sit in it.
Now from this we can tell,He will never more tease her,But when he is well,He will study to please her.
As Tommy and his sister JaneWere walking down a shady lane,They saw some berries, bright and red,That hung around and over head.
And soon the bough they bended downTo make the scarlet fruit their own;And part they ate, and part in playThey threw about and flung away.
But long they had not been at homeBefore poor Jane and little TomWere taken sick and ill, to bed,And since, I’ve heard, they both are dead.
When children are naughty, and will not be drest,Pray, what do you think is the way?Why, often I really believe it is bestTo keep them in night-clothes all day!
But then they can have no good breakfast to eat,Nor walk with their mother or aunt,At dinner they’ll have neither pudding nor meat,Nor any thing else that they want.
Then who would be naughty and sit all the dayIn night-clothes unfit to be seen?And pray who would lose all their pudding and play,For not being dress’d neat and clean.
Frances Lorenzo is my name,I scarce can tell you how it came;(One day to church I had to go,And ever since they’ve called me so.)
That New Year’s day I shan’t forget,So cold, my limbs seem shaking yet;Nor him who loves the lambs, they said,And poured the water on my head.
For folded in his bosom warm,I knew that I was safe from harm;He called my name, and pressed my brow,And said, I was a soldier now.
I sat so still, and all aroundWere pleasant looks and sweetest sound;I wondered what it all could mean,O, Mama, take me there again.a. d. f.
My own pet Lamb, I long to beFrom envy, pride, and malice free;Patient, and mild, and meek like thee,My own pet Lamb.
I long to know my Shepherd’s voice,To make his pleasant ways my choiceAnd in the fold like thee rejoice,My own pet Lamb.
Be you to others kind and true,As you’d have others be to you.
O, Lord! our infant voice we raise,Thy holy name to bless;In daily song of thanks and praise,For mercies numberless.
For parents who have taught us right,That Thou art good and true;And though unseen by our weak sightThou seest all we do.
Let all our thoughts and actions riseFrom innocence and truth;And Thou, O, Lord! wilt not despiseThe praise of early youth.
The Cock who soundly sleeps at night,Rises with the morning light,Very loud and shrill he crows;Then the sleeping ploughman knows,He must leave his bed also,To his morning work to go.
And the little Lark does flyTo the middle of the sky;You may hear his merry tuneIn the morning very soon;For he does not like to rest,Idle, in his downy nest.
While the cock is crowing shrill,Leave my little bed I will,And I’ll rise to hear the Lark,For it is no longer dark;’Twould be a pity there to stay,When ’tis light and pleasant day.
A plum so blue, a cherry red,An orange bright and yellow;A pippin green, as e’er was seen,And peaches rich and mellow.
All, all of these will mama giveTo lassie good and bonnie, O,So papa down, to Boston town,And buy them all for Nannie, O.
Little puss, come here to me,Gently jump upon my knee,And then your pretty eyes I’ll see,But do not scratch.
Pray do you ever catch a mouse,As you run up and down the house?I’m sure you do, good Mrs. Puss,With these same claws.
Here, share with me this little seat,I never now poor puss will beat,So let me feel how soft your feet,Since you don’t scratch.
How very nicely you can draw,Quite out of sight each little claw,And make so soft a velvet paw,Good little puss.
I saw a little mouse, you know,Once yonder in the yard below,And pounce you went upon it so,Poor little thing.
You loosed it oft, and let it run,Then to pursue it you begun,And seemed to think it made good fun,You cruel puss.
But do not tease it so, I pray,Because I’ve heard papa oft say,It was a very cruel way,And should not be.
So, pussy, you must kill it quite,Not put it in so great a fright,And seem to glory in the sight;Do you hear, puss?
Give to the Father praise,Give glory to the Son;And to the Spirit of His Grace,Be equal honor done.
Dear kitten, do lie still, I say,I really want you to be quiet,Instead of scampering away,And always making such a riot!
There, only see you’ve torn my frock,And poor mama must put a patch in;I’ll give you a right earnest knock,To cure you of this trick of scratching.
——Nay do not scold your little cat,She does not know what ’tis you’re saying.And ev’ry time you give a pat,She thinks you mean it all for playing.
But if your pussy understoodThe lesson that you want to teach her,And did shechooseto be so rude,She’d beindeeda naughty creature.