Little Lydia and the Razor
“This box little Lydia may put in its place,”
Said her uncle, “for I am quite lame;
My razor is nicely shut up in its case,
Be careful, my dear, of the same.”
But Lydia had seen this razor so bright
In the hands of her uncle display’d,
And when she was once fairly out of his sight,
She open’d the box, and saw with delight
The beautiful handle and blade.
She met her young sister; “Dear Abby,” she said,
“This beautiful thing only see;
Sit down here directly, and hold up your head,
I’ll shave you as nice as can be.”
Her sister consented, and now they begin
Their dangerous play with delight;
But, lo! the first stroke brings blood from her chin,
And both scream aloud with affright.
At the sound of these voices their mother appear’d
And well might such figures amaze her;
For one little girl was with blood all besmeared,
The other was holding a razor.
Now Abby was washed, and a plaster they bring
For the cut on her face most befitting;
And Lydia was told what a terrible thing,
She’d been on the point of committing.
They were warned for the future such playthings to shun,
And I trust they remember their warning;
For I’ve heard of no mischief these children have done,
Since that most unfortunate morning.