What is it that makes little Emily cry? br Come then, let mamma wipe the tear from her eye: br There­ -- lay down your head on my bosom­ -- that's right, br And now tell mamma what's the matter to-night. br br What! Emmy is sleepy, and tired with play? br Come, Betty, make haste then, and fetch her away; br But do not be fretful, my darling; you know br Mamma cannot love little girls that are so. br br She shall soon go to bed and forget it all there­ br Ah! here's her sweet smile come again, I declare: br That's right, for I thought you quite naughty before. br Good night, my dear child, but don't fret any more.