The Consequences Of Greed

Why, Edward! why this Cry of Pain? This Jacket all besmirched? Your strict Papa I’ll call again And have you soundly birched.

This pastry, that indulgent Cook Had filled for you with Jam, With hasty Greed, and envious Look You down your Throat did cram.

Now Gluttons! pray attend to me: I’ll send for Doctor Bell, A Child with Appetite too free He always doses well.