Copyright, 1881, by E. H. Harding.
Soft I sing of Mattie dear,
Sweetest young maiden, far or near,
Dearest yet, she's my pet,
Warmin' up my heart so queer.
Oh! the fires of love that lie
In the dark corners of her eye,
Sure my heart is kilt wid joy,
About sweet Mattie dear-
Mattie mine, girl so fine.
She's the belle, the daiscy grand.
Sure she's the queen of Ireland,
On my royal head I'd stand,
For my sweet Mattie dear.
In a dry-goods store below,
Jugglin' the silks and calico,
There she'll stay, all the day,
Wastin' her sweet life away.
Oh 1 had I but goold in store,
Sure I would have her work no more,
For 'tis in a birdie's cage
I'd put my Mattie dear-
Sweetest yet, she's my pet.-Chorus.