Poor dolly, lying on its back
The cold rain gently drizzles outside
The bags are ready, lunch is packed
«But no one’s here. Where’s my ride?
I hope they’ve got the address right.»
Poor dolly, bored and cracked
The windows groan with an ancient low
Dropped like a mitten, dignity intact
Forgotten? Maybe. Never. No!
Look, the drizzle is turning to snow!
Pretty Dolly…
misty-eyed, mischief-prone,
wound up tonight
Pretty dolly, wound up tight
So much to do on a November night
Her little shoes, bag, and dress
None of her friends can ever guess
When she’ll fly off next
Pretty dolly, dull and drone
Looking out the window at a long driveway
«I wonder if they lost their way?»
Look, the drizzle is turning to snow!
Pretty Dolly…
misty-eyed, mischief-prone,
wound up tonight