The Naughty Doll

My dolly is a dreadful care—

Her name is Miss Amandy;

I dress her up and curl her hair,

And feed her taffy candy.

Yet heedless of the pleading voice

Of her devoted mother,

She will not wed her mother's choice,

But says she'll wed another.

I'd have her wed the china vase—

There is no Dresden rarer;

You might go searching every place

And never find a fairer.

He is a gentle, pinkish youth—

Of that there's no denying;

Yet when I speak of him, forsooth,

Amandy falls to crying!

She loves the drum—that's very plain—

And scorns the vase so clever;

And weeping, vows she will remain

A spinster doll forever!

The protestations of the drum

I am convinced are hollow;

When once distressing times should come,

How soon would ruin follow!

Yet all in vain the Dresden boy

From yonder mantel woos her;

A mania for that vulgar toy,

The noisy drum, imbues her!

In vain I wheel her to and fro,

And reason with her moldly—

Her waxen tears in torrents flow,

Her sawdust heart beats wildly.

I'm sure that when I'm big and tall,

And wear long trailing dresses,

I sha'n't encourage beaux at all

Till mama acquiesces;

Our choice will be a suitor then

As pretty as this vase is—

Oh, how we'll hate the noisy men

With whiskers on their faces!