Oh! Henry eats like any pig;
He drives his mother mad.
She scolds. He does not care a fig,
It's really very sad.
She says: "Your sister, little dear,
Is always clean and neat;
And though she's younger by a year,
How nicely she can eat."
It's all in vain. He does not care;
He's shocking to behold.
The table-cloth and napkin there
Are smeared in every fold.
Upon the floor, crumbs thickly lie,
As though for chickens laid,
Around his mouth and nose, oh fie!
Is dirt of every shade.
He looks, bedaubed with smear and stain,
Just like some savage wild,
His hands as forks are used, it's plain.
For shame! You dirty child!