 | Mother Pitcher's poems For Little People |  |
37
What the Snake sangs,
Snake in the garden!
“Hiss!” said she:
“Hiss! for shame!
Stop pelting me!
For every stone
You throw at a snake,
Sooner or later
Your head will ache.
“Hiss!” said she:
“Hiss! for shame!
Stop pelting me!
For every stone
You throw at a snake,
Sooner or later
Your head will ache.
“But call me ‘Lady!’
When I pass by,
I'll bless you wet,
And I'll bless you dry.
For every time
You spare a snake,
You'll find some money,
And no mistake.”
When I pass by,
I'll bless you wet,
And I'll bless you dry.
For every time
You spare a snake,
You'll find some money,
And no mistake.”
| Mother Pitcher's poems For Little People | |