He climbed in the back of her great arm-chair,
And nestled himself very snugly there;
Grandma’s dark locks were mingled with white,
And quick this fact came to his sight;
A sharp twinge soon she felt at her hair,
And woke with a start, to find Harry there.
“Why, what are you doing, my child?” she said;
He answered, “I’se pulling a basting fread?”
