But none so nice as mine, I know, and so they all will say;
And I'll be queen, if I may, mother, I'll be queen, if I may.
I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake,
If you do not shout at my bedside, and give me a good shake;
For I have got those gloves to trim with blonde and ribbons gay.
And I'm to be queen, if I may, mother; I'm to be queen, if I may.
As I came home to-day, mother, whom think you I should meet,
But Harry—looking at a cab, upset in Oxford Street;
He thought of when we met, to learn the Polka of Miss Rae—
But I'll be queen, if I may, mother; I'll be queen, if I may.