Pretty little fingers,
Wherefore were they made?
Like ten smart young soldiers,
All in pink arrayed.
Apt and quick obedient
To your lightest thought,
Doing in an instant
Everything they're taught.
'T was for play or study,
Pen to wield or ball;
Kite, top, needle, pencil,
Prompt at parents' call.
Picking, poking, soiling
Costly things and dear,
Wrecking, cracking, spoiling
All that they come near.
Thus 't was with Robert Chivers,
Brandishing a swish,
Broke a vase to shivers
Filled with silver fish.
"Tick, tick" says the Dutch clock.
Robert fain would know
How it's pendulum swinging
Made it's wheels go.
Who not ask? No! foolish
Robert takes a stick,
Pokes and breaks the clock, which
Ceases soon to tick.
"Puff, puff," sighs the bellows.
Robert wants to find,
Yet he will not ask, whence
Comes it's stock of wind.
With a knife upripping,
Finds them void and flat.
Ah! be sure a whipping
Robert caught for that.