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About the Little Girl that Beat Her Sister

by
 Go, go, my naughty girl, and kiss
Your little sister dear; 
I must not have such things as this,
And noisy quarrels here.
What! little children scratch and fight, That ought to be so mild; Oh! Mary, it's a shocking sight To see an angry child.
I can't imagine, for my part, The reason for your folly; She did not do you any hurt By playing with your dolly.
See, see, the little tears that run Fast from her watery eye: Come, my sweet innocent, have done, 'Twill do no good to cry.
Go, Mary, wipe her tears away, And make it up with kisses: And never turn a pretty play To such a pet as this is.

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