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HE little French doll was a dear little doll

Tricked out in the sweetest of dresses;

Her eyes were of hue

A most delicate blue

And dark as the night were her tresses;

Her dear little mouth was fluted and red,

And this little French doll was so very well bred

That whenever accosted her little mouth said:

"Mamma! mamma!"

The stockinet doll, with one arm and one leg,

Had once been a handsome young fellow,

But now he appeared

Rather frowzy and bleared

In his torn regimentals of yellow;

Yet his heart gave a curious thump as he lay

In the little toy cart near the window one day

And heard the sweet voice of that French dolly say;

"Mamma! mamma!"