She put out her thorns, and scratched ev'ry thing 'round.
"I'll just try," said she,
"How bad I can be;
At pricking and scratching, there are few can match me."
Little Miss Brier was handsome and bright,
Her leaves were dark green, and her flowers pure white;
But all who came nigh her
Were so worried by her,
They'd go out of their way to keep clear of the Brier.
Little Miss Brier was looking one day