Copyright, 1894, by T. B. Harms & Co.
Words by J. Cheever Goodwin. Music by E. Jakobowski.
Babbette was young, Babbette was fair, Babbette had eyes of blue;
With hair like silk and teeth like milk and cheeks of rosy hue;
Her nose tip-tilted just a bit, too much for a captious churl;
But, all in all, she was what you'd call a dev'lish pretty girl;
But she wasn't without a flaw; for nobody ever saw,
Or ever will, a thornless rose, or eke a stoneless peach;
And so it must be confessed that, although by beauty blessed,
It suffered alloying by a most annoying impediment in her speech.
She'd t-t-t-t-t-t-try her b-b-b-b-besf.
But it p-p-p-p-put one's patience to a t-t-terrible test.
For, to answer the simplest question asked, b-b-b-bothered her so;
It seemed a year before you'd hear a welcome "Yes "or "No."
Her c-c-c-c-c-c-case was sad, was sad, was sad;
Her in-t-t-t-t-t-t-tent was g-g-g-g-good,
But her ex-e-cu-tion, her ex-e-cu-tion was b-b-b-b-b-b-bad.
Raoul was also in his youth. Raoul was likewise fair:
And, it came to pass, for him no lass could with Babbette compare;
So one fine day, he boldly owned the passion that she inspired.
But, hapless lot, her reply was not what poor Raoul desired.
When he swore, by the skies above, that she was his only love;
And vowed she had it in her power to make or man his bliss;
And begged, as a lover will, she'd him, she'd him with rapture fill.
By kindling permitting, what was surely fitting, one eucciiutine, stolen kiss;
Her answer was, "You m-m-m, M-m-m-m-m-m;"
And, altho' she used her best endeavor, yet the sequence would not come;
And poor Raoul almost distracted was: for how could anyone say
If her in-m-m-m-mumming meant, "You mustn't" or "You may."
P-p-p-p-p-p-p-poor B-b-b-b-Babbette, etc.