Poor Little Adaline

Dorothy was handsome, her teeth white as show,
In her cheeks did the rose and the lily combine,
Her lips crimson coral, eyes black as a sloe,
And her lovers and looking glass call?d her divine,
But never content with two sweethearts coquetting,
With one and the other along time she played,
Till somehow deserted she took to hard fretting,
And poor little Dorothy died an old maid.
Poor little Dorothy, Dorothy, Dorothy,
Poor little Dorothy died an old maid.

Margaretta, the Prude, like a may-pole, was tall,
As majestic a charmer as eyes ever saw,
From rudeness her looks would her lovers appall,
And so stately she stalked she the men kept in awe,
Two swains she tormented till somehow unthinking,
Like pussey, too long, with the nibbles she play?d,
And deserted, I don?t know how, took hard drinking,
So tall Margaretta too died an old maid.

Flirtelli, the witty Prudentia, the grave,
And half a score more sallow virgins they call,
Who could ne?er be contented with one loving slave,
Till, alack ! they where doom?d to have no slave at all.
I too have been wrong, but to mend will begin,
Tho? the first match that offers fates will be obey?d,
For I?m sure it would be both a shame and a sin
To let poor Adaline die an old maid.