Boy Blue. Curly Locks, Curly Locks, wilt thou be mine? Thou shalt not wash dishes, nor yet feed the swine; But sit on a cushion and sew up a seam, And feast upon strawberries, sugar, and cream.
Curly Locks. H’m! When your old cows ran away, Where then would be the cream? And they’d tramp upon the strawberries; And as for sewing a seam, I’d rather embroider or hemstitch Than mend an ugly tear, Or sew on ugly patches When holes in your elbows you wear. Besides, you sleep by the haystack When you ought to be at work. I do not care for you, Boy Blue. I can’t abide a shirk!
Boy Blue. And I can’t abide a snob, so we Are even, as you must agree. Fine looks do not mean fine manners, I see, And you are not the girl, after all, for me.
Mother Hubbard. “Handsome is as handsome does,” says I.
Curly Locks (tossing her curls). “Sour grapes,” said the fox, when the vine was too high!
(Betty Blue comes in, crying.)
Betty Blue. I wish you’d whip Tom, Ma, I do! He’s made me lose my nice new shoe. I’ve danced with a hoptoad and danced with a linnet, While he kept that pipe going every minute. I’ve danced with a snake and I’ve danced with a clam, I’ve danced with a cow and I’ve danced with a lamb! I’ve danced with old Rover, his long hanging ears Going flippety-flop, while he smiled through his tears! And I’d have been dancing yet, truly, Ma Goose, If something in that old pipe hadn’t come loose!
(All sing. Tune: No. 19.)