Every night my prayers I say,
And get my dinner every day;
And every day that I've been good,
I get an orange after food.
The child that is not clean and neat,
With lots of toys and things to eat,
He is a naughty child, I'm sure--
Or else his dear papa is poor.
More verses by Robert Louis Stevenson
- Come, My Beloved, Hear From Me
- The Hayloft
- Small Is The Trust When Love Is Green
- Young Night-Thought
- Dedication