  William has a silly trick— On everything his hand he lays; He made himself extremely sick, One morning, by his greedy ways. I promised him I'd write it here (Although he owns he's much to blame), That all may read it far and near, Lest other boys should do the same. No scatter'd bits his eye can pass, He tastes and sips where'er he comes, He empties everybody's glass, And picks up everybody's crumbs. He'll not do so again, I hope: He has been warn'd enough, I think; For once he ate a piece of soap, And sipp'd for wine a glass of ink. |
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