About the Little Girl that Beat Her Sister

 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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