This riding-hood she used to wear whenever she walk’d out;
It was so smart, the boys and girls would follow her about.
And all the neighbours loved her, and to see her often came;
And little Dame Red-riding-hood they call’d her for her name.
One beautiful fine morning when her mother had been churning,
This little girl upon the hearth some nice sweet cakes was turning:
And whisper’d softly to herself, how well our oven bakes!
Oh, how I wish that grandmamma could taste these nice sweet cakes!
Her mother who was close behind, and heard her little mutter,
Then you shall take her some, she said, with some of my fresh butter.