Griselda

Griselda is greedy, I'm sorry to say
She isn't contented with four meals a day
Like breakfast, like dinner, supper, and tea
Griselda is greedy as greedy can be

Well, she snoops about the larder
For sundry small supplies
Breaks the crusty bits
Off the rims of apple pie

She pokes the roast-potato dish
When Sunday dinner's done
If there are two left in it
Then Griselda snitches one

Cold chicken and cold cauliflower
She pulls in little chunks
And when Mama calls, "What are you doing there?"
Griselda bunks

Griselda is greedy, that's how she feels
And simply can't help eating in between meals
And she always forgets what it's all leading to
Though the Doctor has told her, “You know why, don't you?”

And when the stomachache starts, Griselda says, “Ohh! Ohh!”

Then she slips down to the dining-room when everyone's in bed
For cheese rind on the supper tray and buttered crusts of bread
A biscuit from the biscuit box, a lump of sugar from the bowl
A gherkin from a pickle jar was all Griselda's toll

She tastes the salted almonds
And she tries the candied fruits
And when Daddy shouts, "Who is that down below?"
Griselda scoots

Oh, Griselda is greedy, her relatives scold
And tell her she will be sorry she'll be when she's old
She will lose her complexion, sure to grow fat
Spoil her inside—does she know where she's at?
Some people are greedy, leave it at that