A nice little girl and a boy;
She wrote us the boy’s name was William,
Her daughter, she said, was called Joy.
And I, too, am picking some flowers,
So both of the children can see
How nicely I’ve trimmed up my play-house;
Their visit, of course, is to me.
The girl she can play with my dollies;
There’s one that could once shut her eyes,
But now the poor thing hasn’t any,