I will lock you both in, so that she can't get out.' And should any ill from my visit betide, I should never forgive myself—not till I died; Made a rope from the window, and swiftly down slid, H The Weakly Chicken. USH-A-BYE, chicky, the worst out of ten, Thy daddy's a bantam, thy ma's a black hen; Your brothers are crowing, and think they can sing; Your aunt lays an egg for our baked rice-pudding. D Dame Wiggins of Lee. AME WIGGINS of Lee was a worthy old soul, As e'er threaded a needle or washed in a bowl; Who held mice and rats in such antipathy, That seven fine cats kept Dame Wiggins of Lee. Now, alas! the Dame died, and I've heard folks relate How her friends were dispersed, and each met a sad fate : But if cats won't, alas! to their morals attend, Of course we expect they will meet some bad end. The first, turning poacher, was caught in a trap, To all other game-stirs who came nigh that tree. The next went to sea-there's a wreck and no meat, The fourth led a sad and a dissolute life, And at length was destroyed for ill-treating his wife. The next in a street-fight was killed by a dog ; He had supped with a friend, and had drunk too much grog. The last, growing feeble (the Chronicler says), Was knocked down by a horse and run o'er by the chaise. So this was the end of the seven fine cats Dame Wiggins had kept to preserve her from rats. Oh! how happy they lived with the Dame down at Lee, L Little Jack Horner. ITTLE Jack Horner sat in a corner, Eating a Christmas pie, He put in his thumb, and pulled out a plum, And said, 'What a good boy am I!' As soon as he'd finished the pie; But his mother she spied him and gave him a hiding- Man and Wife. HERE was a little man, and he had a little wife, THE And she was both the pleasure and the worry of his life; For she had a little temper, which she very often lost, Which the poor unlucky fellow found as often to his cost. L The Snail. AZY old snail, come out of your shell; To slumber at night is all very well: But now the sun shines, and your face I would see,- Come, your shutters unclose, or a slug-gard you'll be! TH HREE children sliding on the ice, As it fell out they all fell in The rest they ran away. Now, had these children been at home, Or sliding on dry ground, Ten thousand pounds to one penny They had not all been drowned! These three little children, as since I've been told, And a nice little whipping, soon cured them outright! |