You've not read a word since I put you in that corner ten minutes ago;
Bill and I've fought the battle of Waterloo since dinner, and you've
not learned BA BE BI BO.
Here am I doing the whole British Army by myself, for Bill is obliged
to be the French;
And I've come away to hear you say your lesson, and left Bill waiting
for me in the trench.
And there you sit, with a curly white wig, like the Lord Chief Justice,
and as grave a face,
Looking the very picture of goodness and wisdom, when you're really in
the deepest disgrace.
Those woolly locks of yours grow thicker and thicker, Papa Poodle.
Does the wool tangle inside as well as outside your head? and is it
that which makes you such a noodle?
You seem so clever at some things, and so stupid at others, and I keep
wondering why;
But I'm afraid the truth is, Papa Poodle, that you're uncommonly sly.
You did no spelling-lessons last week, for you were out from morning
till night,
Except when you slunk in, like a dirty door-mat on legs, and with one
ear bleeding from a fight,
Looking as if you'd no notion what o'clock it was, and had come home
to see.
But _your watch keeps very good meal-time_, Papa Poodle, for you're
always at breakfast, and dinner, and tea.
No, it's no good your shaking hands and licking me with your
tongue,--I know you can do that;
But sitting up, and giving paws, and kissing, won't teach you to
spell C A T, Cat.
I wonder, if I let you off lessons, whether I could teach you to pull