As I was going down the hill
In front of Missus Knapp’s
I saw the little Knapperines
All in their winter wraps—
Purple mitts and mufflers
And knitted jersey caps.
As I was coming back again
In front of Missus Knapp’s
I saw that awful lady
Give about a dozen slaps
To every little Knapperine—
I thought it was, perhaps,
Because they gathered stickers
In their knitted jersey caps.
