An' turnin up her cunnin e'e,
Shoo rubs th' doll maath, an says, "yo see,
It gets its share.",
Sometimes aw'm rayther cross? aw fear!
Then starts a little tremblin tear,
'At, like a drop o' glitt'rin dew
Swimmin within a wild flaar blue,
Falls fro ther e'e;
But as the sun in April shaars
Revives the little droopin flaars,