to the chin;
I sent him to the garden to pick some sage,
He tumbled down and fell in a rage;
I sent him to the cellar to draw a pot of beer,
He came up again and said there was none there.

Little Dog Buff

I had a little Dog, and they called him buff,
I sent him to the shop for a hap'orth of snuff;
But he lost the bag and spilled the snuff.
So take that cuff, and that's enough.

Dog Burnt his Tail

Ding, dong, darrow,
The cat and the sparrow;
The little dog has burnt his tail,
And he shall be hang'd to-morrow.

Thievish dog Fan

Thievish dog Fan, to yell aloud began,
She burnt her mouth through stealing tripe:
Thievish dog Fan.

The Quarrelsome Dogs

Old Tray and rough Growler are having a fight,
So let us get out of their way;
They snarl, and they growl, and they bite,
Oh dear, what a terrible fray!

Good Little Dog

I will not hurt my little dog,
But stroke and pat his head;
I like to see him wag his tail,
I like to see him fed.

Poor little thing, how very good,
And very useful too.
For don't you know that he will mind
What he is bid to do?

Then I will never hurt my dog,
Nor ever give him pain;
But treat him kindly every day,
And he'll love me again.

[Illustration: Puss on Rover's Back.]

Puss And Rover

Our Pussy she is white,
Our Rover he is black,
And yet he licks Pussy's face
While she stands on his back.

Our Pussy she is little,
Our Rover he is big,
And yet he likes the Pussy
Much better than the pig.

Our Pussy she is young,
And Rover he is old,
And yet he likes the Pussy
More than tons of gold.

Our Pussy she is good,
And so is Rover too,
So Pussy says, "Ta, ta." "Good-bye,"
And Rover says "Adieu."

Don't Tease Dogs

Foolish Edward runs away,
From the large dog with the bone;
If we do not tease or chide,
Dogs will leave us quite alone.

No Breakfast for Growler

No, naughty Growler, get away,
You shall not have a bit;
Now when I speak, how dare you stay?
I can't spare any, Sir, I say,
And so you need not sit.

Poor Growler! do not make him go,
But recollect, before,
That he has never served you so,
For you have given him many a blow,
That patiently he bore.

Poor growler! if he could but speak,
He'd tell (as well as he might)
How he would bea