s said to his lasting disgrace,
That he never was seen
With his hands at all clean,
Nor yet ever clean was his face.

His friends were much hurt
To see so much dirt
And often and well did they scour,
But all was in vain,
He was dirty again
Before they had done it an hour.

When to wash he was sent,
He reluctantly went
With water to splash himself o'er,
But he left the black streaks
Running down both his cheeks,
And made them look worse than before.

The pigs in the dirt
Could not be more expert
Than he was, in grubbing about;
And people have thought
This gentleman ought
To be made with four legs and a snout.

The idle and bad
May, like to this lad,
Be dirty and black, to be sure.
But good boys are seen
To be decent and clean,
Although they be ever so poor.

Throwing Stones

Johnny Jones, why do you do it?
Those who throw stones
Surely will rue it;
Little of pleasure, evil may flow,
Mischief past measure comes of a blow.

Yes, yes! stone flinging.
Laugh as you may,
Woe may be bringing
Upon you some day.

Someone is watching,
Armed by the law,
Truncheon from pocket
Soon he will draw.
Off he will march you--
Dreadful to think!--to a dark prison:
Light through a chink,
Bread without butter, water for drink.

Dirty Dick

Dirty, noisy, mischievous Dick,
Struggled and tore, and wanted to fight
Susan, the nurse, who in the bath
Began to wash him on Saturday night.

Her hair he tried to pull up by the roots,
The water he splashed all over the floor,
Which ran downstairs, and one night made
A terrible slop at the parlour door.

To give him advice was a waste of time,
So his father resolved to try a stick,
And never since then has he been called
Dirty, noisy, mischievous Dick.

Boy That Stole the Apples

A boy looked over a wall,
And spied some lovely apples;
"But," says he "the tree is tall,
And belongs to 'Grumpie Chapples!'
Still, I think some could be got
By a climbing lad like me:
I'll try and steal a lot,
So here goes up the tree."

[Illustration: Apple Thief Hanging From Wall With Dog Below.]

The wall he then got over,
And up the tree he went;
But Chapples, mowing clover,
Espied the wicked gent.
He let him fill his school-bag--
Get over the wall again;
R