Little John Bottlejohn said, "Oh yes!
I'll willingly go with you.
And I never shall quail at the sight of your tail,
For perhaps I may grow one too."
So he took her hand, and he left the land,
And plunged in the foaming main.
And little John Bottlejohn, pretty John Bottlejohn,
Never was seen again.
[JEMIMA BROWN.]
I.
Bring her here, my little Alice,
Poor Jemima Brown!
Make the little cradle ready!
Softly lay her down!
Once she lived in ease and comfort,
Slept on couch of down;
Now upon the floor she's lying,
Poor Jemima Brown!
II.
Once she was a lovely dolly,
Rosy-cheeked and fair,
With her eyes of brightest azure
And her golden hair;
Now, alas! no hair's remaining
On her poor old crown;
And the crown itself is broken,
Poor Jemima Brown!
III.
Once her legs were smooth and comely,
And her nose was straight;
And that arm, now hanging lonely,
Had, methinks, a mate.
And she was as finely dressed as
Any doll in town.
Now she's old, forlorn, and ragged,
Poor Jemima Brown!