In a mansion grand, just over the way
Lives bonny, beautiful Dell;
You may have heard of this lady gay,
For she is a famous belle.
I live in a low cot opposite—
You never have heard of me;
For when the lady moon shines bright,
Who would a pale star see?
But ah, well! ah, well! I am happier far than Dell,
As strange as that may be.

Dell has robes of the richest kind—
Pinks and purples and blues;
And she worries her maid and frets her mind
To know which one to choose.
Which shall it be now, silk or lace?
In which will I be most fair?
She stands by the mirror with anxious face,
And her maid looks on in despair.
Ah, well! ah, well! I am not worried, you see, like Dell,
For I have but one to wear.

Dell has lovers of every grade,
Of every age and style;
Suitors flutter about the maid,
And bask in her word and smile.
She keeps them all, with a coquette’s art,
As suits her mood or mirth,
And vainly wonders if in one heart
Of all true love has birth.
Ah, well! ah, well! I never question myself like Dell,
For I know a true heart’s worth.

Pleasure to Dell seems stale and old,
Often she sits and sighs;
Life to me is a tale untold,
Each day is a glad surprise.
Dell will marry, of course, some day,
After her belleship is run;
She will cavil the matter in worldly way
And wed Dame Fortune’s son
But, ah, well! sweet to tell, I shall not dally and choose like Dell,
For I love and am loved by—one.