By Mrs. Hopley
He's wedded to his theory, they say.°
If that were true, it could not live a day.
And did the children of his brains enjoy
But half the pains he spends upon his boy,
You may depend that ere a week was fled,
There would not be a whole place in his head.
On seeing her children say Goodnight to their father.
Bid your Papa Goodnight. Sweet exhibition!
They kiss the Rod with filial submission.
If that were true, it could not live a day.
And did the children of his brains enjoy
But half the pains he spends upon his boy,
You may depend that ere a week was fled,
There would not be a whole place in his head.
On seeing her children say Goodnight to their father.
Bid your Papa Goodnight. Sweet exhibition!
They kiss the Rod with filial submission.
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