Lay on the mantel-shelf,
And he thought, "I hate a barber's chair,
I can cut it off myself"
So, snipping, snipping, snipping,
The cold keen scissors sped,
Till one whole side of his little pate
Was bald as the baby's head.
Just then the tea bell, ringing
Its cheery call, he heard;
And he glanced at the uncut side, and said,