The Story Of Romping Polly

"I pray you now, my little child," Thus once a kind old lady Spoke to her niece in accents mild, "Do try to be more steady. I know that you will often see Rude boys push, drive, and hurry; But little girls should never be All in a heat and flurry." While thus the lady gave advice And lectured little Polly, To see her stand with downcast eyes, You'd think she'd owned her folly. She did, and many a promise made; But when her aunt departed, Forgetting all, the silly maid Off to the playground started. Now see what frolic and what fun, The little folks are after; Away they jump, away they run, With many a shout and laughter. But fools who never will be taught, Except by some disaster, Soon find their knowledge dearly bought, And of a cruel master. This little girl, who, spite of all Her good old aunt had spoken, Would romp about, had such a fall That her poor leg was broken. In sore amaze, those standing by Then placed her on a barrow; But oh! to hear her scream and cry Their souls it sure did harrow. See how her brother bursts in tears, When told the dreadful story; And see how carefully he bears The limb all wet and gory. Full many a week, screwed up in bed, She lingered sad and weary; And went on crutches, it is said, Until she died so dreary.