THE 
 
 DISOBEDIENT CHILD! 
 
 From a very scarce little work entitled Book for Boys 
 and Girls; or. Country Rhimes for Children f by 
 J, B., 12wfo., London, 1686. 
 
 CHILDREN become, while little, our delights. 
 
 When they grow bigger, they begin to fright 's. 
 
 Their sinful Nature prompts them to rebel. 
 
 And to delight in Paths that lead to Hell. 
 
 Their Parents' Love and Care, they overlook. 
 
 As if Relation had them quite forsook. 
 
 They take the Counsels of the Wantons rather, 
 
 Then the most grave Instructions of a Father. 
 
 They reckon Parents ought to do for them, 
 
 Tho' they the Fifth Commandement contemn. 
 
 They snap, and snarl, if Parents them controul, 
 
 Tho' but in things most hurtful to the Soul. 
 
 They reckon they are Masters, and that we, 
 
 Who Parents are, should to them Subject be! 
 
 If Parents fain would have a hand in chusing. 
 
 The Children have a heart will in refusing. 
 
 They'l by wrong doings, under Parents, gather 
 And say, it is no Sin to rob a Father. 
 
 They'l jostle Parents out of Place and Pow'r, 
 
 They’l make themselves the Head, and them devour. 
 How many Children, by becoming Head, 
 
 Have brought their Parents to a piece of Bread! 
 
 Thus they who at the first were Parents’ Joy, 
 
 Turn that to Bitterness, themselves destroy. 
 
 But Wretched Child, how canst thou thus requite 
 Thy Aged Parents, for that great delight 
 They took in thee, when thou so helpless lay 
 In their Indulgent Bosoms day by day! 
 
 Thy Mother, long before she brought thee forth. 
 
 Took care thou should'st want neither Food nor Cloth. 
 Thy Father glad was at his very heart, 
 
 Had he, to thee, a Portion to impart. 
 
 Comfort they promised themselves in thee. 
 
 But thou, it seems, to them a Grief wil't be. 
 
 How oft! How willingly brake they their Sleep, 
 
 If thou, their Bantling, didst but whinch or weep. 
 Their Love to thee was such, they could have giv'n. 
 That thou might'st live, almost, their part of Heav’n. 
 
 But now, behold, how they rewarded are ! 
 
 For their Indulgent Love, and tender Care, 
 
 All is forgot, this Love he doth dispise. 
 
 They brought this Bird up to pick out their Eyes 1 
 
 ORBAT TOTHAM I PRINTED AT CHARLES OLARK'S PRIVATE PRBSSt