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Kid's Music


'tause I'm Tross









Mamma, 'tause I'm tross don't whip me;
I tan't help it, not a bit!
'Tis the tandy hurts my stomat,
And that mates me whine and fret.

Sometimes, too, I'm whipped for trossness
When the trossness tomes from meat;
Thint how tiders drowl and drumble,
And then dive me food to eat
That will mate me well and happy,--
Wheat and oat-meal, rice and truit,
These will mate me dood and gentle,
'Stead of mating me a brute.





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