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Oh, where is little Maggie ? |
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Over yonder she stands |
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Rifle on her shoulder |
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Six-shooter in her hand. |
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How can I ever stand it |
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Just to see them two blue eyes |
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Shinin' like some diamonds |
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Like some diamonds in the sky. |
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Rather be in some lonely hollow |
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Where the sun don't ever shine |
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Than to see you be another man's darling |
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And to know that you'll never be mine. |
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Well, it's march me away to the station |
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With my suitcase in my hand |
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Yes, march me away to the station |
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I'm off to some far-distant land. |
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Sometimes I have a nickel |
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And sometimes I have a dime |
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Sometimes I have ten dollars |
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Just to pay for little Maggie's wine. |
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Pretty flowers are made for blooming |
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Pretty stars are made to shine |
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Pretty girls are made for boy's love |
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Little Maggie was made for mine. |
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Well, yonder stands little Maggie |
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With a dram glass in her hand |
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She's a-drinkin' down her troubles |
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Over courtin' some other man. |
