MOTHER.
And where would a wolf come from, pray;
Biddy could not find one, should she try.
'T was a wicked thing for her to say,—
She knew she was telling a lie.
Examine your chamber, my dear;
Look carefully round before night,
And if you can find a wolf here,
I will certainly leave you a light.
WILLIE.
Mamma, you are laughing at me,
There's no wolf anywhere to be found;
I know there is nothing to see
If I take all the day to look round.
MOTHER.
Then I hope you will not be afraid;
Now tell me, my son, if you 're able,
Of what mamma's candles are made,
You see one stand there on the table.
WILLIE.
Of tallow and cotton, mamma;
The candles are run in a mould.
I went up one day with papa
To the factory where they are sold.
