"His Mother and John, To the garden had gone, To gather ripe pears and ripe plums."—Poem.
Joe's Mother (with forced cheerfulness)—
Let's hope, my friends, to find our pears and plums,
Unharmed by wopses, and untouched by wums.
[Chorus signify assent in the usual manner by holding up the right hand.
Solo—John.
Fruit, when gathered ripe, is wholesome—
Otherwise if eaten green.
Once I know a boy who stole some—
[With a glance at Joe, who turns aside to conceal his confusion.
His internal pangs were keen!
Chorus (virtuously). 'Tis the doom of all who're mean,
Their internal pangs are keen!
Joe's Mother (aside). By what misgivings is a mother tortured!
I'll keep my eye on Joseph in the orchard.
[She invites him with a gesture to follow.
Joe (earnestly). Nay, Mother, here I'll stay till you have done.
Temptation it is ever best to shun!