  I know a little girl, But I won't tell who! Her hair is of the gold, And her eyes are of the blue. Her smile is of the sweet, And her heart is of the true. Such a pretty little girl!— But I won't tell who. I see her every day, But I won't tell where! It may be in the lane, By the thorn-tree there. It may be in the garden, By the rose-beds fair. Such a pretty little girl!— But I won't tell where. I'll marry her some day, But I won't tell when! The very smallest boys Make the very biggest men. When I'm as tall as father, You may ask about it then. Such a pretty little girl!— But I won't tell when. |
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