  Miss Margaret Mary Elizabeth May, Had one hundred dollies with which she could play. There were bisque dolls and wax dolls and dolls with real hair, Red dolls and black dolls and dolls that were fair, Fat dolls and plump dolls and dolls in the style, Hipless and jointless and dressed in a smile; Sag dolls and wood dolls and celluloid boys, China and paper and Jumping Jack Joys; Irish and Scotch dolls and dolls from Paree, And all of the strange lands from over the sea; Jappies and Chinese and dark Esquimos, Dutchies and Germans and cutest Dagoes; Dollies from Egypt and dollies from Spain, Hindoos and Hebrews and one little Dane. From Poland and Russia they'd traveled afar By railroad and steamer and also by car To join other dollies from Johnnie Bull's home, From Greenland and Iceland, Norway and Greece, The string of these dollies seemed never to cease. But Margaret Mary Elizabeth May Could never decide with which doll to play, So she was not happy as poor little Sue, Who in her doll family had only two Wretched rag dollies without any hair, But which she considered a most lovely pair. And these ugly dollies they gave her delight, As with them she played from morning till night. |
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