LITTLE MAGGIE ANN.
Copyright, 1879, by E. H. Harding.
I know a little rosybud,
A light-weight of sixteen,
Wid hair where warmest colors blaze,
And heart where truth do beam;
She have a cheek where freshness dwells,
She'd spoil up any man,
A lump of carrot gold is she,
This little Maggie Ann.
This little Maggie Ann, this rosy Maggie Ann,
She'd strike you blind dumb, this sweet little plum.
This slick and entirely bewilderin' young girl,
They call little Maggie Ann.
This rosy Maggie Ann, a Vaynus is she,
Whate'er that may be, is little Maggie Ann.
She used to be a workingman,
Down in a laundry fine,
And wrestle wid discouraged shirts,
'Till wid new life they'd shine;
But she bekem hightouey,
As would any other man,
And now a rale, pure Irish nurse
Is little Maggie Ann. - Chorus.
The babies all she washes,
And then irons them out well,
And fetches them a lovely slap,
If out of tune they yell;
A fancy night-cap then she wears.
This French Hibernian,
Then to the park wid all the babes
Glides little Maggie Ann.-Chorus.