Then gave my bibs and petticoats,
And all, to baby sister.
I never whine, now I’m so fine,
And don’t get into messes;
For mamma says, if I am bad,
She’ll put me back in dresses!
There’s buttons up and down my legs,
And buttons on my jacket;
I’d count ’em all, but baby makes
Just now, an awful racket.