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.