_Joseph_.

About old Mother Morey?

_All_.

No! Tell us another.

_Joseph_.

About my brother?

_Rebekah_.

Now, Joseph, you shall be good,
And do as you'd be done by;
We didn't mean to be rude
When you fell and began to cry:
We wanted to make you forget your pain;
But it frets you, and we'll not laugh again.

_Joseph_.

Well, if you'll all sit still,
And not be frisking about,
Nor utter a whisper till
You've heard my story out,
I'll tell you a tale as weird
As ever you heard in your lives,