A naughty child Amanda was;— She would not comb her hair; Though it was rough and tangled, too, Amanda did not care; And when mamma the matted locks Would fain have brushed and tied, Amanda only pushed away Her hand and stamped and cried.

But listen now! It chanced one time Mamma had gone away. Amanda she had left at home All by herself that day. Then someone rattled at the latch;— Amanda heard him there;— She heard him shutting fast the door And creeping up the stair;—

Someone with scissors in his hand, And dreadful gleaming eyes; "Where is that child who will not comb The tangles out?" he cries. In vain Amanda shrieks and runs, He has her by the hair; Snip-snap! the shining scissors go And leave her head quite bare.

Now when mamma comes home again, Ah, what is her surprise To see Amanda's naked head And note her tearful eyes; And now lest she a cold should catch A nightcap she must wear, And when her locks have grown again I'm sure she'll comb her hair.