Stephen Foster, 1860
Ho! little girl, so dressed with care!|
With fairy slippers and golden hair!
What did I hear you calling so loud,
Down in that heartless, motley crowd?
'Tis my father's song,
And he can't live long;
Every one knows that he wrote it;
For I've been down at the hotel door,
And all the gentlemen bought it.
2. Ho! little girl, let me light my cigar!|
Where are you going tonight so far?
What are you hiding under your arm?
If I burn a sheet, will it do any harm?
3. Ho! little girl, what makes you cry?
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