  As Tommy and his sister Jane Were walking down a shady lane, They saw some berries, bright and red, That hung around and overhead; And soon the bough they bended down, To make the scarlet fruit their own; And part they ate, and part, in play, They threw about, and flung away. But long they had not been at home Before poor Jane and little Tom Were taken sick, and ill, to bed, And since, I've heard, they both are dead. Alas! had Tommy understood That fruit in lanes is seldom good, He might have walked with little Jane Again along the shady lane. |
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