SHE is not young and fair, Nor has she golden hair, Nor a dimple in each cheek, If that is what you seek; Hers is a gift more rare, Miss Milly O'Naire. She has not laughing eyes, Blue as the summer skies, Nor lips of cherry red, On kisses to be fed; No, it's not for these I care, Miss Milly O'Naire. She is not wondrous wise, Seeks not for learning's prize. 'Tis true she knows no Greek, And her English grammar's weak, But why should I despair, Miss Milly O'Naire. So woo and win her I will, For there's my tailor's bill, And creditors by the score; But they'll trouble me no more, For she has a million to spare, Miss Millionaire. |