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There was one Little Jack,
Not very long back,
And 'tis said to his lasting disgrace,
That he never was seen
With his hands at all clean,
Nor yet ever clean was his face.
His kind friends were much hurt
To see so much dirt,
And often and well did they scour;
But all was in vain
He was dirty again
Before they had done it an hour.
When to wash he was sent
He reluctantly went
With water to splash himself o'er;
But he left the black streaks
All over his cheeks
And made them look worse than before.
All the idle and bad
May much like this lad,
Be dirty and black, to be sure:
But good boys are seen
To be decent and clean,
Although they are ever so poor.
Jane Taylor.
AH, WHY WILL MY DEAR.
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