The Doll's Wooing

The 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!"     He listened so long and he listened so hard     That anon he grew ever so tender,     For it's everywhere known     That the feminine tone     Gets away with all masculine gender!     He up and he wooed her with soldierly zest     But all she'd reply to the love he professed     Were these plaintive words (which perhaps you have guessed):     "Mamma! mamma!"     Her mother - a sweet little lady of five -     Vouchsafed her parental protection,     And although stockinet     Wasn't blue-blooded, yet     She really could make no objection!     So soldier and dolly were wedded one day,     And a moment ago, as I journeyed that way,     I'm sure that I heard a wee baby voice say:     "Mamma! mamma!"