Poor, little, tired Girlie, you've worked at your play
Till the bloom of your cheeks has faded away.
To-morrow, again, you can sit by the fire
And dress all your Dollies in gala attire.
Say, Good Night! to your thimble, needle and seams;
Run along, Little Girl, and sweet be your dreams!
Run along, Little Girl, and cover up tight!
There's nothing to harm you, no spooks in the night
Nor Bogeymen glaring when you are awake;
For they're bad little girls that Bogeymen take.