A wonderful lass was Marie, petite.
And she looked full fair and passing sweet—
And, oh! she owned—but cannot you guess
What pet can a maiden so love and caress
As a tiny lamb with a plaintive bleat
And mud upon his dainty feet,
And a gentle veally odour of meat?
And a fleece to finger and kiss and press—
White as snow?
Wherever she wandered—in lane or street