When little George at last arose The sun was overhead; He looked about, no clothes he saw; "Where can they be?" he said. "Nurse, nurse," he cried, "where are my clothes? I do not see them here." "Why, no," said nurse, "you will not find Your clothes to-day, I fear;

Some other child has now your suit, Because I thought, indeed, If you were going to lie in bed, Your clothes you would not need. But if you really wish to dress And go to school, see there, The little dress a year ago Your sister used to wear."

Now how ashamed is little George To have to dress like that; To have to wear his sister's frock, Her ribbons and her hat. Now in the street the children point And stare as he goes by; "Come look at Georgie-Lie-a-Bed, How he is dressed," they cry.

Now little George is so ashamed To have them see him so, He turns about and home he runs As fast as he can go. "Oh, mother dear," he cries, "if I May have my clothes once more, I'll try to be a better boy Than I have been before."

"Why," says mamma, "since that's the case, And you repent, my dear, Your little trousers, shirt, and coat— Just see—they all are here." And since that day mamma and nurse Are proud and glad to see Their little George can such a prompt And early riser be.