Golden-Tressed Adelaide

SING, I pray, a little song, Mother dear! Neither sad nor very long: It is for a little maid, Golden-tressed Adelaide! Therefore let it suit a merry, merry ear, Mother dear! Let it be a merry strain, Mother dear! Shunning e’en the thought of pain: For our gentle child will weep, If the theme be dark and deep; And we will not draw a single, single tear, Mother dear! Childhood should be all divine, Mother dear! And like an endless summer shine; Gay as Edward’s shouts and cries, Bright as Agnes’ azure eyes: Therefore, bid thy song be merry:—dost thou hear, Mother dear?