Go, go, my naughty girl, and kiss Your little sister dear; I must not have such things as this, Nor noisy quarrels here.
What! little children scold and fight Who ought to be so mild; Oh! Mary, 'tis a shocking sight To see an angry child.
I can't imagine for my part, The reason of your folly, As if she did you any hurt By playing with your dolly.
Let dogs delight to bark an bite, For God hath made them so; Let bears and lions growl and fight: For 'tis their nature to.
But children you should never let Such angry passions rise; Your little hands were never made To tear each other's eyes.
Why is Mary standing there, Leaning down upon the chair, With pouting lip and frowning brow? I wonder what's the matter now.
Come here, my dear, and tell me true, Is it because I spoke to you About what you just now had done, That you are such a naughty one?
When, then, indeed, I'm grieved to see That you can so ill-tempered be: You make your faults a great deal worse By being sulky and perverse.
Oh! how much better it appears, To see you melting into tears, And then to hear you humbly say, "I'll not do so another day!"
The Little Girl that did not Like to be Washed
What! cry when I wash you! not love to be clean? There, go and be dirty, unfit to be seen; And till you leave off, and I see you have smiled, I'll not take the trouble to wash such a child.
A little girl, named Mary Kate, Whom you may have chance to see, Would have been loved by small and great, But for one thing, which I'll relate; So listen now to me.
A silly habit she's acquired Of putting in her mouth, The pretty fingers of her hand, And sucking them, for hours she'd stand, In a manner most uncouth.
Her play-companions used to laugh, And jeeringly would say, "Oh, pray bring Mary Kate some crumbs, Poor thing! she's dining off her thumbs, She'll eat them all away."
This is Nelly Pilfer; I'll tell you what she earned By stealing off the treacle When Mary's back was turned.
They caught the greedy Nelly With treacle on her hand, They put her in the corner, And there they made her stand.
Little Polly Flinders, Sat among the cinders, Warming her pretty toes; Her mother came and caught her, And scolded her little daughter, For spoiling her nice new clothes.