“Whenever you dress me dolls, mammy,

   Why do you dress them so,

And make them gallant soldiers,

   When never a one I know;

And not as gentle ladies

   With frills and frocks and curls,

As people dress the dollies

   Of other little girls?”

Ah—why did she not answer:—

   “Because your mammy’s heed

Is always gallant soldiers,

   As well may be, indeed.

One of them was your daddy,

   His name I must not tell;

He’s not the dad who lives here,

   But one I love too well.”