Here you may see. That she is pretty
All will agree. " Three for a penny !"
That is her cry; No wonder many
Hasten to buy.
Mother, we're told, Everyone pities—
So feeble and old. Poor mother's living
Kitty obtains, Cheerfully giving
Her all that she gains.
Roams to and fro; All through the city
She's known high and low. When the sun's shining,
When the rain falls, Never repining,—
"Fine fruit!" Kitty calls.