On Strike

My dollies are so naughty,
I’m afraid they’ve gone on strike;
They won’t let me undress them,
But just do what they like.

They say they want a penny
To spend on Saturday,
And ’less I let them have it,
They’ll not join in my play.

I can’t let them behave so,
They’ll never grow up right—
But I know they will be sorry
When I don’t kiss them good-night.