To her, indeed to any one,
That I should suffer such a fate,
Or learn a trade I love to hate.
I tell you what, when I get big,
You’ll see me dance a different jig;
I won’t be sober, staid, and stern,
And try to make the children learn.
Poor little things, I’ll let them be,
Remembering how it was with me.
Just worry, lecture, preach, and scold,