This is lit-tle Ro-sa-belle—

No! I beg her par-don,

This is Ma-dame Mob-cap,

Walk-ing in her gar-den.

What a fine cap it is!

What a wide bor-der!

Spec-ta-cles and walk-ing-stick,

And ev-er-y-thing in or-der.

Hop, toads, clear the way!

Bees, hush your hum-ming!

La-dy-birds and but-ter-flies,

Grand folks are com-ing!

Nev-er think she'll look at you,

Vi-o-lets and dai-sies!

You're quite too in-sig-nif-i-cant

For such a la-dy's prais-es.

She must have a king-cup,

And a prince's feath-er,

With a crown-im-pe-ri-al,

Tied up to-geth-er.

That will suit your Maj-es-ty,

Ma-dame Ro-sa-bel-la!

And here's a gold-en sun-flow-er

To make you an um-brel-la.

"Pooh!" says lit-tle Ro-sa-belle,

Pluck-ing some car-na-tions;

"You may keep your sun-flow-ers,

And all their rich re-la-tions.

"Give me a bunch of vi-o-lets,

And one of those white ros-es,

And take your crown-im-pe-ri-al

To folks that have no nos-es."