On, dear! I ’m in such trouble I don’t know what to say!I heard somebody talking of a Christmas doll to-day!I ’m quite upset about it, for if Santa Claus should bringAnother doll to our house, 't would be a dreadful thing!I ’m certain no one wants her, and I don’t see any need,For I am just a Christmas doll myself—I am indeed!
Perhaps you don’t believe it, but I know it cannot beA year since I was hanging on a lovely Christmas tree,And I ’m sure I ’m still a treasure for any little girl—Though my nose is somewhat patted and my hair is out of curl;My broken arm ’s been mended, and the eye that ’s left, you know,Is just as blue and smiling as it was a year ago!
If another doll should come here, all beautifully dressed,And my mama should love her a little bit the best,My heart would just be broken, for little May and I Have been such happy playmates in the year that ’s just gone by!And I ’m very sure no stranger, however fine and new.Could love my little mother as dearly as I do.
No wonder I ’m unhappy! It’s dreadful to be told,“You look forlorn and shabby, and are getting very old,”When you feel so brisk and lively you know it can ’t be true!Oh, dear! I wish that some one would make me something new,And fix me up a little, so nobody would sayA Christmas doll was needed for dearest little May!
So if you meet with Santa, do tell him, please, for me,That I and little mother are as happy as can be;That I ’m just as good to play with as any doll you know,And not a minute older than I was a year ago; Tell him not to bring a dolly, whatever he may do,For whoever says we want one, I say it is n ’t true!
