  She sits in the porch with her sau-cer; Smeared are her fin-gers and thumbs; While a-round with nois-y clat-ter Ba-by shoos and shoos, and strikes them With the spoon that spills the crumbs: “Do ’way chick-ies! ’ou s’an’t hab em— My nice bwead an’ las-ses tums!” But the chick-ies sly will pick them When Miss Dim-ple’s not on the watch; And old moth-er hen comes bold-ly child holding up spoon sitting on porch looking at chicks With her mind made up for a snatch. Take care, Mrs. Hen-ny-pen-ny! One good rap is what you catch, With Miss Dim-ple’s sharp ad-vise-ment: “’Ou la-zy ol’ fing—go scwatch!” |
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