Her sister would come to the bedside and call,
"Do you mean to sleep here all the day?"
I saw Kitty Miles up two hours ago,
A-washing and working away.
"The water is boiling, the table is spread,
Your father is just at the door;
If you are not quick, we shall eat all the bread,
And you will not find any more."
Then Sally sat up and half opened her eyes,
And gave both a grunt and a groan;
And yawning she said, in a quarrelsome voice,
"I wish you would let me alone."
But though she was lazy, she always could eat,
And wished for a plentiful share,
So tumbled her clothes on, and smeared her white face,
Forgetting her hands and her hair.
Her frock was all crumpled and twisted away,
Her hair was entangled and wild,
Her stockings were down and her shoes were untied,
She looked a most slovenly child.
She sauntered about till the old village clock
Had sounded and then died away,
Before she put on her torn bonnet and went
To school without further delay.
But soon as she came to the little cake shop,
She loitered with lingering eyes,
Just wishing that she had a penny to spend,
For one of the pretty jam pies.
Again she went on, and she loitered again
In the same foolish way as before,
And the clock in the school was just warning for ten,
As she lifted the latch of the door.
The governess frowned as she went to her place,
She had often so spoken in vain,
And now only said, with a sorrowful sigh,
"There's Sally the latest again!"
She hated her reading, and never would write,
She neither could cypher nor sew,
And little girls whispered, "We never will be
So silly as Miss Sally Slow."