Oh, sweet Miss Molly,
You're so fond
Of Fishes in a little Pond.
And perhaps they're glad
To see you stare
With such bright eyes
Upon them there.
And when your fingers and your thumbs
Drop slowly in the small white crumbs
I hope they're happy. Only this—
When you've looked long enough, sweet miss.
Then, most beneficent young giver,
Restore them to their native river.