disobey'd his dad,
And he disobey'd his uncle, which
was very near as bad.
He wouldn't learn to cypher, and he wouldn't learn to write,
But he would tear up his copy-books to fabricate a kite;
And he used his slate and pencil in so barbarous a way,
That the grinders of his governess got looser ev'ry day.
At last he grew so obstinate that no one could contrive
To cure him of a theory that two and two made five;
And, when they taught him how to spell, he show'd his wicked