This is a cute little poem dated 1852 about a young child taught that she could not play on Sunday!

Now Dolly, my dear,
I pray you come here;
And work is all done;
I'll put you to bed, for to-morrow is Sunday,
And I'll not see you again until Monday.

you don't want to go?
But you ought to know
That it is by right;
So, Dolly, good-night:

You must lie without noise or crying till Monday,
For you know we ought not to play on Sunday.
author unknown

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