THE WET NURSE.
By John Jones
PERCHANCE, should you the child‘ let fall,’
Confessing it‘ wo n't do at all;’
None can the secret e'er discover,
And if it dies, the danger's over.
To your own breast confine the bilk,
And save — your‘ breasteziz’ of milk.
Wean‘ such as live’ as soon as may be,
Out o’ the way of the next baby.