Dolly, you're a naughty girl, all your hair is out of curl,
And you've torn your little shoe! Oh, what must I do with you?
You shall only have dry bread, Dolly you shall go to bed.

Do you hear, miss, what I say? Are you going to obey?
That's what Mother says to me, so I know it's right, you see.
For sometimes I'm naughty, too, Dolly, dear, as well as you.
But I mean to try and grow all Mamma can wish, you know.
Never into passions Fly, or when thwarted sulk and cry.
So, my Dolly, you must be good and gentle, just like me.



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