Come here, little Dolly; don't cry any more
Because a big dolly has come from the store;
Our people are making a terrible fuss
Because a big fortune has fallen to us;
And nothing would do
But a dolly brand-new;
But I never can love her as I love you.

We loved each other when we were poor;
You were all I had in the world, I'm sure;
And now you shall be
Just the same to me;
So wipe the tear from your only eye
With your broken hand. Dear Dolly, don't cry!

I'd give you silk dresses, with ribbons and lace,
And put a new eye in your pitiful face,
With a hand, and a foot, and slippers brand-new—
But I 'm sure I should cry, for it would n't be you.
You 're prettier far
With a bump and a scar;
For I love you, my Dolly, just as you are.

The rich have their troubles in social affairs,
And often get weary with putting on airs:—
I 'd like to go back playing dolly once more,
With an every-day dress, on an every-day floor—
Back to where I can show
The devotion I owe
To my every-day Dolly,—I love her so!