MISS Sophy, one fine sunny day, Left her work and ran away; When soon she reach'd the garden-gate, Which finding lock'd, she would not wait, But tried to climb and scramble o'er A gate as high as any door. But little girls should never climb, And Sophy won't another time; For when, upon the highest rail, Her frock was caught upon a nail, She lost her hold, and, sad to tell, Was hurt and bruised—for down she fell. |