University of Virginia Library

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Eleven O'clock.
  
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Eleven O'clock.

Eleven O'clock.

The Cook undoes the Oven Door;
The Kobold smells the baking Pies;
Licking his Lips, with glistening Eyes,
He hops across the Floor.
Our fat, old Betty sweats and blows;
She does not see how near he stands,
And when she bangs the Door, Good Lands!
It 'most cuts off his Nose.

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