Ah, Mary! what, do you for dolly not care?
And why is she left on the floor?
Forsaken, and cover'd with dust, I declare;
With you I must trust her no more.
I thought you were pleased, as you took her so gladly,
When on your birthday she was sent;
Did I ever suppose you would use her so sadly?
Was that, do you think, what I meant?
With her bonnet of straw you once were delighted,
And trimm'd it so pretty with pink;
But now it is crumpled, and dolly is slighted:
Her nurse quite forgets her, I think.