Do a good flush and put it away out of direct sunlight. The ink went with the baby down the plughole.
A mother was bathin' her baby one night
The youngest of ten, a poor little mite
The mother was fat and the baby was thin
T'was nawt but a skellington wrapped up in skin
The mother turned round for the soap from the rack
She weren't gone a minute, but when she got back
Her baby had gone, and in anguish she cried
"Oh, where is my baby?", and the angels replied
Your baby has gorn dahn the plug'ole
Your baby has gorn dahn the plug
The poor little thing was so skinny and thin
He shoulda been bathed in a jug
Your baby is perfik'ly 'appy
He won't need a bath any more
He's muckin' abaht with the angels above
Not lost but gone on before