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Little Lady, quite contrary
Tiny head caught in a passing cloud
Why don't you come down and see,
The whole world loves you?
Little Lady, she stands quite alone
Can't pretend their words don't wound her
Sticks and stones, yes they may break bones
But these words they slice right through her.
But in her shining Heart, locked quite far away
Glittering is a dream that never died or bled,
A singular stroke, the memory of home
Haunts every moment of her life.
No pleasure in the hatred around her
No glee in the cruel time that traps
Home is a word never far from her lips
And the bloody tears, companions to her eyes.