  Peter Careful had a cake Which his kind mamma did bake; Of butter, eggs, and currants made, And sent to Peter—carriage paid. "Now," said Peter, "they shall see, Wiser than Harry I will be; For I will keep my cake in store, And that will make it last the more." He, like Harry (sad to say), Did not give a bit away, But, miser-like, the cake he locks With all his playthings in his box. And sometimes silently he'd go, When all he thought engag'd below, To eat a very little piece, For fear his treasure should decrease. When next he went (it makes me laugh) He found the mice had eaten half, And what remain'd, though once a treat, So mouldy, 'twas not fit to eat. |
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