  "Sweep! sweep! sweep! sweep!" cries little Jack, With brush and bag upon his back, And black from head to foot; While daily, as he goes along, "Sweep! sweep! sweep! sweep!" is all his song, Beneath his load of soot. But then he was not always black. Oh no! he once was pretty Jack, And had a kind papa; But, silly child! he ran to play Too far from home, a long, long way, And did not ask mamma. So he was lost, and now must creep Up chimneys, crying, "Sweep! sweep! sweep!" Note.—This was written in the days when little boys, like Tom in Water Babies, were sent actually up the chimneys to clean them out. |
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