You’ve been spelling some time for the rod,
And your jacket shall know I’m a Trimmer.
You don’t know your A from your B,
So backward you are in your Primer;
Don’t kneel—you shall go on my knee,
For I’ll have you to know I’m a Trimmer.
This morning you hinder’d the cook,
By melting your dumps in the skimmer;
Instead of attending your book,—
But I’ll have you to know I’m a Trimmer.