The little French doll was a dear little doll <br />Tricked out in the sweetest of dresses; <br />Her eyes were of hue <br />A most delicate blue <br />And dark as the night were her tresses; <br />Her dear little mouth was fluted and red, <br />And this little French doll was so very well bred <br />That whenever accosted her little mouth said <br />"Mamma! mamma!" <br /> <br />The stockinet doll, with one arm and one leg, <br />Had once been a handsome young fellow; <br />But now he appeared <br />Rather frowzy and bleared <br />In his torn regimentals of yellow; <br />Yet his heart gave a curious thump as he lay <br />In the little toy cart near the window one day <br />And heard the sweet voice of that French dolly say: <br />"Mamma! mamma!" <br /> <br />He listened so long and he listened so hard <br />That anon he grew ever so tender, <br />For it's everywhere known <br />That the feminine tone <br />Gets away with all masculine gender! <br />He up and he wooed her with soldierly zest <br />But all she'd reply to the love he professed <br />Were these plaintive words (which perhaps you have guessed): <br />"Mamma! mamma!" <br /> <br />Her mother - a sweet little lady of five - <br />Vouchsafed her parental protection, <br />And although stockinet <br />Wasn't blue-blooded, yet <br />She really could make no objection! <br />So soldier and dolly were wedded one day, <br />And a moment ago, as I journeyed that way, <br />I'm sure that I heard a wee baby voice say: <br />"Mamma! mamma!"<br /><br />Eugene Field<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-doll-s-wooing/
