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A dear little girlie went down one bright day To the shore of the sea to have a good play; She sat with her dollie awhile on the beach, Till each of her cheeks was as fresh as a peach; And then, having taken a nice little run, She tried to look out for some new kind of fun.

‘Twas bathing-time now, and all rosy and brown The bathers were coming from out of the town In suits of bright red or else suits of dark blue, Some funny and old and some pretty and new, To play in the waves and to play in the sand, To splash in the sea and then run on the land.

Thought girlie: “Now why can't my doll have some fun? I'm sure she's tired of sitting here in the sun; Her blue flannel dress is a good suit to wear; It won't take a minute to fix her, the dear. I'd like to know what are these little waves for If not for the dollies who come to the shore? So in you may go, darling dollie, you may, And splash like the others, and have a good play.”

So the dear little girl ran down through the sand, And holding her dollie quite fast by the hand, She gave her a splash in the first little wave. “Why, dollie, you like it, you're ever so brave!” Then splash number two, and then splash number three, Till dollie was soaked through and through—oh, dear me! To take a few breakers is much the best way. I know it is dreadful to come out so soon; I'll let you go in again this afternoon. Come out, like a good girl, and try not to cry; Now run up the beach, and make haste to get dry.”

To get dry! Oh, that is the thing to do now; The poor little mother, she doesn't know how. 'Tis easier said than it is to be done. Poor dollie! She'll have to hang out in the sun. Her blue bathing garments about her they cling, her sawdust is dusty no longer, poor thing! The eyes that were dark they are now but pale blue, The colour is washed from her little cheeks, too; And as for her hair, it is ruined to-day; “It comes out in cartloads,” as all the girls say. Alas for the dollie! Alas for her fun! It would have been better to sit in the sun; For dollies the little waves never were made: Of this I am certain. Their beauties will fade If ever they venture to enter the surf. 'Tis safer for dollies to stay on the turf. So bright little mothers of bright little dolls Who happen to be where the sea-water rolls, Take warning, take warning, and never, I know, Will you foolishly play with your dear babies so.

Letts's Household Magazine, 1884

// posted by Alice @ Tuesday, July 12, 2005