It’s my opinion—though I own
In thinking so I’m quite alone—
In some respects I’m but a fright.
You like my features, I suppose?
I’m disappointed with my nose:
Some rave about it—perhaps they’re right.
My figure just sets off a fit;
But when they say it’s exquisite
(And they do say so), that’s too strong.
I hope I’m not what people call
Opinionated! After all,
I’m but a goose, and may be wrong!

When charms enthral
There’s some excuse
For measures strong;
And after all
I’m but a goose,
And may be wrong!

My teeth are very neat, no doubt;
But after all they may fall out:
I think they will—some think they won’t.
My hands are small, as you may see,
But not as small as they might be,
At least, I think so—others don’t.
But there, a girl may preach and prate
From morning six to evening eight,
And never stop to dine,
When all the world, although misled,
Is quite agreed on any head—
And it is quite agreed on mine!

All said and done,
It’s little I
Against a throng.
I’m only one,
And possibly
I may be wrong!