Children, you are very little, 
And your bones are very brittle; 
If you would grow great and stately, 
You must try to walk sedately. 

You must still be bright and quiet, 
And content with simple diet; 
And remain, through all bewild'ring, 
Innocent and honest children. 

Happy hearts and happy faces, 
Happy play in grassy places-- 
That was how in ancient ages, 
Children grew to kings and sages. 

But the unkind and the unruly, 
And the sort who eat unduly, 
They must never hope for glory-- 
Theirs is quite a different story! 

Cruel children, crying babies, 
All grow up as geese and gabies, 
Hated, as their age increases, 
By their nephews and their nieces.