She threw back her curly golden head, swelled her soft, white throat, opened her rosebud mouth, and sung, with bird-like sweetness, these words:
“Yittle sweet’art, tum an’ tiss me,
Des once mo’ before I go;
Tell me truly, will you miss me
As I wander to and fro?
Yet me feel ’e tender p’essing
Of oor wosy lips to mine,
Wif oor dimple’ hands cawessing,
An’ oor snowy arms intwine.
“Yittle sweet’art, tum an’ tiss me,