Of all the small boys in our town
That Jones boy was the worst,
And if the "bad man" came around
He'd take that Jones boy first.
One day he slipped away from home
And went out for a skate
Down on a deep and dangerous pond
Beyond the garden gate.
His mother missed him after a while,
And thought he'd gone to skate;
And running to the fatal pond,
She found she was too late.
For there, upon the cruel ice,
Beyond an air-hole wide,
She saw his pretty little hat,
And a mitten by it's side.
He was her boy, and all the love
That fills a mother's heart
Came forth in tears and sobs and moans
Beyond the strength of art.
She called the neighbours quick to come,
They scraped along the ground;
Beneath the water and the ice--
The boy could no be found.
At last their search was given up
Until a thaw should come;
The mother's sobs began afresh,
Her sorrow was not dumb.
They turned to leave the fatal pool,
A voice came clear and free--
"Hallo! If you want Frankie Jones,
You'll find him up this tree."
And so it was--the mother's tears
Were changed to smiles of joy;
But gracious heaven, how she spanked
Her darling, fair-haired boy!