Harry looks so sick and ill,
Harry is so cold and chill,
Nurse does almost think, and fear,
Something's the matter with her dear.
Let me feel his little feet,
If they're nicely warm, my sweet!
Ah! they are both damp and cold;
And that should never be, I'm told.
Let us fetch the little tub,
And water warm, his feet to rub;
We'll bathe them well; then by and by
We'll wash them clean, and wipe them dry.
If feet are cold, Mamma can tell
Her children will not long be well;
And often have I heard her say,
"That case admits of no delay."