I carried her books, and she held my hand—
Two innocent children of God’s own band.
We would marry when we grew up, we said.
Grave plans for the time to come we laid—
A small boy I, and a wee girl she,
In those bygone days—ah me! ah me!
We grew—we were married—Dolly and I,
At the quaint old church in the town close by;
The farm was purchased, the fees were paid—
‘What a blithe young couple!’ the neighbours said.