Lucy, Lucy, come away!
Never climb for things so high.
Don't you know, the other day,
What fell out with Fanny Spy?
Fanny spied, a loaf of cake,
Wisely set above her reach;
Yet did Fanny think to make
In its tempting side a breach.
When she thought the family
Out of sight and hearing too,
Forth a polished table she
Quickly to the closet drew.
First, she stepped upon a chair;
Then the table—then a shelf;
Thinking she securely there
Might, unnoticed, help herself.
Then she seized a heavy slice,
Leaving in the loaf a cleft
Wider than a dozen mice,
Feasted there all night, had left.
Stepping backward, Fanny slid
On the table's polished face:—
Down she came, with dish and lid,
Silver—glass—and china vase!
In, from every room they rushed,
Father—mother—servants—all,
Thinking all the closet crushed,
By the racket and the fall.
'Mid the uproar of the house,
Fanny, in her shame and fright,
Wished herself indeed a mouse,
But to run and hide from sight.
Yet was she to learn how vain,
Poor and worthless, is a wish.
Wishing could not lull her pain,
Hide her shame, nor mend a dish.
There she lay, but could not speak;
For a tooth had made a pass
Through her lip; and to her cheek
Clung a piece of shivered glass.
From her altered features gushed
Rolling tears, and streaming gore;
While, untasted still, and crushed,
Lay her cake upon the floor.
Then the doctor hurried in:
Fanny at his needle swooned,
As he held her crimson chin,
And together stitched the wound.
Now her face a scar must wear,
Ever till her dying day!
Questioned how it happened there,
What can blushing Fanny say?