Oh! is there any cause to fear
That dol-ly will be very ill?
To cure my lit-tle dar-ling here,
Pray, doc-tor, use your ut-most skill.
And dol-ly, if you would get well,
Hold out your arm, that Dr. Gray
May feel your tiny pulse, and tell
What best will take the pain a-way.
And do not say: "I will not touch
That nas-ty phy-sic, nor the pill."
If lit-tle dolls will eat too much,
They must not won-der if they're ill.
If your mam-ma ate too much cake,
She would be very poor-ly too,
And nas-ty phy-sic have to take;
And, lit-tle dol-ly, so must you.
[Illustration: Those who the South-ern O-cean cross,
Meet with the wide-wing-ed Al-ba-tross.]
[Illustration: In ri-vers near the hot E-qua-tor,
Lives the huge, sca-ly Al-li-ga-tor.]
[Illustration: In north-ern snows, the Po-lar Bear,
'Mid glit-ter-ing ice-bergs makes his lair.]
[Illustration: In shel-ter-ed nooks, by ri-ver-sides,
The strange-ly-beard-ed Bar-bel hides.]
[Illustration: THE SICK DOLL.]
[Illustration: LITTLE ROSE'S VALENTINE.]
[Illustration]