She dawdles. Always she dawdles. You tell her to go straight to grandmother’s house and she’s wandering, playing her games. But there’s things in these woods a red riding-hood won’t keep away. So I’m watching and keeping her safe till she catches my shadow and runs right away. What’s a grandma to do?
The white moon lights her way of course, but look what it’s doing to mine. So I hide in my bed, with a nightcap down over my ears and I hope she won’t know.
“Oh Grandma, what big teeth you’ve got.”
If only the girl didn’t dawdle.