But managed to get down to breakfast, and tea,
His eyesight grown dim, and shaky his hand,
Of course—needed help to button a band,
In making his toilet—now, pray don’t stare—
He wanted some one to comb out his hair,
To brush his new teeth—put on his collar,
To dust off his clothes, and things that follow.
’Tis true! it gave all the children pleasure,
To dust, brush and scrub him without measure.