Till she reached their dismal garret, for she knew a stick was there;
This she held behind her slyly, meaning to avenge her woes,
Sought the unsuspecting Billy, and she hit him on the nose.
Billy’s missile missed its object, Nellie’s stick descended hard,
And the boy from all his pleasures was for three whole weeks debarred;
Could he hop-scotch in the alley—in the gutter take his place,
With that lattice work of plaster—very dirty—on his face?
Little boys should love their sisters—that’s the moral that I meant,
Seeing Billy’s nasal feature now, alas! is sadly bent;
And he has a secret sorrow, for whene’er his temper glows,