You know, mamma, you sent me down
To Mr. Brightman’s shop,
With ninepence in my hand to buy
A little humming-top.
Well, Mr. Brightman handed down
A dozen tops or more,
That I might take my choice of one,
Then stepped towards the door.
And so I caught one slily up,
And in my pocket hid it,
No one could e’er suspect the thing,
So cunningly I did it.
Then I took out another top,
And laid my ninepence down,
Laughing to think I owned them both,
But paid for only one.
But, when I turned and left the shop,
I felt most dreadfully;
For all the while I was afraid
That he would follow me.
Oh sure, thought I, he’ll find it out,
The angry man will come,
And I shall never see mamma,
And never more go home.
They’ll tie a rope about my neck,
They’ll hang me up on high,
And leave the little, wicked thief
To hang there till he die.
Away I ran, in this sad fright,
Fast down the nearest lane;
And then I stopped and looked behind,
Then screamed, and ran again.
Trembling, at last I reached my home,
And straight I went to bed,—
But, oh! in such a shocking plight
That I was almost dead.
No rest nor comfort could I take,
And not a wink of sleep;
All I could do was toss and turn
From side to side and weep.