To buy some butter-scotch.
My Hepsy tored her apron
A tum’lin’ down the stair,
And Cæsar’s lost his pantloons.
And needs anozzer pair.
I wants some newer mittens—
I wish you’d knit me some,
’Cause most my fingers freezes,
They leaks so in the fum.
I wored ’em out last summer,