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For a Naughty Little Girl

My sweet little girl should be careful and mild,
And should not be fretful, and cry!
Oh! why is this passion? remember, my child,
God sees you, who lives in the sky.

That dear little face, which I like so to kiss,
How frightful and sad it appears!
Do you think I can love you, so naughty as this,
Or kiss you so wetted with tears?

Remember, tho' God is in heaven, my love,
He sees you within and without,
And he always looks down from His glory above,
To notice what you are about.

If I am not with you, or if it be dark,
And nobody is in the way,
His eye is as able your doings to mark,
In the night as it is in the day.

Then dry up your tears, and look smiling again
And never do things that are wrong;
For I'm sure you must feel it a terrible pain,
To be naughty, and crying so long.

Paulina Pry

Paulina Pry
Would eat nothing but pie;
Pie was her daily diet;
Apple or plum,
She must have some
Or else she wouldn't be quiet.

She would not eat
Any bread or meat,
Though plenty of these were handy,
But would pout and cry
For a piece of pie,
Or a stick of sugar-candy.

They heard her cry
In the Land of Pie,
And sent her dozens and dozens,
Both tender and tough,
Till she'd had more than enough
For her sisters, her aunts and her cousins.

Tearful Annie

Poor little Annie, you will find,
Is very gentle, good, and kind,
But soon a a fault appears.
The slightest thing will give her pain,
Her feelings she can ne'er restrain,
But gives way to her tears.

The other day when Ferdinand--
And if you search throughout the land,
No nicer boy you'll find--
Said something which he never meant
To cause the slightest discontent,
For hours she sobbed and whined.

Her father grieved, said: "This must cease
We never have a moment's peace,
She cries both day and night."
A portrait painter then he paid,
To paint his little tearful maid,
Crying with all her might.

He set to work that very day,
Directly he received his pay;
The picture soon was done.
Yes, there she was, all sobs and sighs,
Large tear-drops streaming from her eyes.
"How like!" said every one.

It was in truth a great success;
Quite perfect, neither more nor less;
Her father was so glad.
He hung the portrait in her room;