Wee little lovers aged six and ten,
Aping the manners of women and men,
He so ardent, and she so shy,
Only when somebody else is by —
When they're alone her shyness flies,
Cupid mounts quickly his throne in her eyes;
When they're alone this bright-haired miss
Gives her wee lover a soft warm kiss.
Yet a sad little coquette is she —
Every attention she welcomes with glee;
Many a heart has she filled with pain,
Constant she finds it so hard to remain.
Lovers will come to her feet to woo,
What is the dear little damsel to do?
Is it her fault that they love her so?
Is it her fault that they wont take No?
Long be the lives of this little pair,
Sweetheart and maiden so bonny and fair!
Long may they live while their loves entwine,
Each with the other, like stems of the vine!
Or will this baby-love droop and die,
Ere many years have flown hurrying by?
Then will they deem it but childish fun,
Feeling no smart, since no harm has been done.