Little Bessie busy knitting.
Tell me why?
On and on the ever-flitting
Hours go by;
Fleeter still her hands are flying
All so spry;
The soft twilight now is dying;
Night is nigh.
Can you tell me why she lingers
Here so long
'Tis love that prompts her nimble fingers
And her song;
Sweet thoughts of baby sister flocking
Through her mind,
In the morning a new stocking
Baby'll find.
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