  When he was up he cried to get down, And when he was in he cried to get out; And no little boy in Boston town Was ever so ready to fret and pout. Poutsy, oh! And fretsy, oh! And spend the whole day in a petsy, oh! And what shall we do to this bad little man, But scold him as hard as we possibly can! When he was cold he cried to be warm, And when he was warm he cried to be cold; And all the morning 'twas scold and storm, And all the evening 'twas storm and scold. Stormy, oh! And scoldy, oh! And never do what he was toldy, oh! And what shall we do to this bad little man, But scold him as hard as we possibly can! |
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