Oh, sweet Miss Molly,

You're so fond

Of Fishes in a little Pond.

And perhaps they're glad

To see you stare

With such bright eyes

Upon them there.

And when your fingers and your thumbs

Drop slowly in the small white crumbs

I hope they're happy. Only this—

When you've looked long enough, sweet miss.

Then, most beneficent young giver,

Restore them to their native river.