8,6,8,6

Whatever brawls disturb the street,

There should be peace at home;

Where sisters dwell and brothers meet

Quarrels should never come.

Birds in their little nests agree;

And tis a shameful sight,

When children of one family

Fall out, and chide, and fight.

Hard names at first, and threatening words,

That are but noisy breath,

May grow to clubs and naked swords,

To murder and to death.

The devil tempts one mother's son

To rage against another:

So wicked Cain was hurried on,

Till he had kill'd his brother.

The wise will let their anger cool,

At least before tis night;

But in the bosom of a fool

It burns till morning light.

Pardon, O Lord, our childish rage,

Our little brawls remove,

That, as we grow to riper age,

Our hearts may all be love!