Good Mamma.

Love, come and sit upon my knee,

And give me kisses, one, two, three,

And tell me whether you love me,

My baby.

For this I’m sure, that I love you,

And many, many things I do,

And all day long I sit and sew

For baby.

And then at night I lie awake,

Thinking of things that I can make,

And trouble that I mean to take

For baby.

And when you’re good and do not cry,

Nor into wicked passions fly,

You can’t think how papa and I

Love baby.

But if my little girl should grow

To be a naughty child, I know

’Twould grieve mamma to serve her so,

My baby.

And when you saw me pale and thin,

By grieving for my baby’s sin,

I think you’d wish that you had been

A better baby.