Mother rigged the little basket, for I’d teased a
day or so,
—I was just a little shaver, and ’twas years and
years ago,—
And I blushed while I was teasing; I was young,
so mother said,
To be running ’round with baskets when I ought
to be in bed.
But she trimmed me up the basket and she asked
me whom ’twas for;