I'm but a wooden doll,
Have neither wit nor grace;
And very clumsy in my joints
And yet I know my place.
Most people laugh at a wooden doll,
And wooden I may be,
But little children love me much
And that's enough for me.
When I am dressed in fine long clothes,
In fur, and silk, and lace,
I think myself I'm not so bad
And yet I know my place.
Let people laugh--I know I'm wood:
Wax I can never be;
But little children think I'm grand--
That's quite enough for me.