JEANETTE is not a sleepy-head; An easy task, to wake her! At eight o’clock she springs from bed— No need to call or shake her. Her brother Jean—I grieve to state— His patient bonne distresses; ’Tis often nearer nine than eight Before at last he dresses.
FOR déjeuner our children eat A bowl of milk and bit of bread; Or sometimes, for a special treat, A croissant, crisp and fresh, instead. Jeanette displays her bringing up, For daintily she sips and lingers. Her brother drains his brimming cup, And then—oh, horror!—licks his fingers!