Go, go, my naughty girl, and kiss
Your little sister dear;
I must not have such things as this,
Nor noisy quarrels here.
What! little children scold and fight
Who ought to be so mild;
Oh! Mary, 'tis a shocking sight
To see an angry child.
I can't imagine for my part,
The reason of your folly,
As if she did you any hurt
By playing with your dolly.