Our Dinah has a baby
That you really ought to see;
Its skin is black all over,
Like a piece of ebony;
Its hair is black, and curly too,
And Dinah never fails
To braid it so it stands around
Its head in little tails.
We play together now and then,
And both of us get hurt;
But Dinah's baby seldom cries,
And never shows the dirt,
Is real good-natured all the time,
And that's the reason, maybe,
Why everybody makes a fuss
With Dinah's little baby.
My skin is white and satin-soft,
My mother calls me Pearl,
And says there never, never was
So sweet a little girl!
And Dinah's baby stares at me,
And I keep staring back;
She wonders why I am so white,
I wonder why she's black.
And Dinah gives her loving hugs
And kisses that must be,
I really think, as sweet, as those
My mother gives to me.
Oh, mothers' hearts are all alike,
And that's the reason, maybe,
Why every mother thinks she has
The very nicest baby.