The Story of Cruel Frederick

This Frederick! this Frederick!

A naughty, wicked boy was he;

He caught the flies, poor little things,

And then tore off their tiny wings;

He kill’d the birds, and broke the chairs,

And threw the kitten down the stairs;

And oh! far worse and worse,

He whipp’d his good and gentle nurse!

The trough was full, and faithful Tray

Came out to drink one sultry day;

He wagg’d his tail, and wet his lip,

When cruel Fred snatch’d up a whip,

And whipp’d poor Tray till he was sore,

And kick’d and whipp’d him more and more;

At this, good Tray grew very red,

And growl’d and bit him till he bled;

Then you should only have been by,

To see how Fred did scream and cry!

So Frederick had to go to bed;

His leg was very sore and red!

The Doctor came and shook his head,

And made a very great to-do,

And gave him bitter physic too.

But good dog Tray is happy now;

He has no time to say “bow-wow!”

He seats himself in Frederick’s chair,

And laughs to see the nice things there:

The soup he swallows, sup by sup,—

And eats the pies and puddings up.