What have I got in this blue cup?
'Tis senna-tea: come, drink it up.
Now come, my little Harry, haste;
What! say he does not like the taste?
These raisins, with a crust of bread,
Will make a pleasant taste instead,
There! now 'tis gone,—both taste and smell;
My little boy has managed well;
Mamma shall know her darling can
Drink senna-tea, just like a man:
For, tho' it is not nice to take,
Med'cine oft cures both pain and ache.
Some naughty children will not try
To drink their senna-tea, but cry;
Then worse and worse they grow, instead,
And often lie for weeks in bed,
When early care, without delay,
Might send their poorliness away.
When nurses have a sickly charge,
Their stock of patience should be large;
Their kindness and obliging care,
Should teach them peevishness to bear;
But then, in what is needful,—right,
Their hold should be both firm and tight;
Then love and confidence would still
Meet in obedience to their will,
And children would not dare to be
Unruly with their senna-tea.