The Doll’s Funeral
Posted on July 7, 2007 - Filed Under Gothic Poetry
A descriptive reading for a little girl by Will Allen Dromgorle, from “The Twentieth Century Speaker,” 1899.
When - my - dolly - died, - when - my dolly - died,
I - sat - on - the - step - and - I - cried - and - cried;
And I couldn’t eat any jam and bread,
‘Cause it didn’t seem right when my doll was dead.
And Bridget was sorry as she could be,
For she patted my head, and “O,” said she,
“To think that the pretty has gone and died!”
Then I broke out afresh and I cried and cried.
And all the dollies from all around
Came to see my dolly put under the ground;
There was Luly Lee and Mary Clack
Brought their dolls over, all dressed in black;
And Emiline Hope and Sara Lou
Came over and brought their dollies, too,
And all the time I cried and cried,
‘Cause it hurt me so when my dolly died.
We dressed her up in a new white gown,
With ribbons and laces all around;
And made her a coffin in a box
Where my brother keeps his spelling blocks;
And we had some prayers, and a funeral, too;
And our hymn was “The Two Little Girls in Blue.”
But for me, I only cried and cried,
‘Cause it truly hurt when my dolly died.
We dug her a grave in the violet bed,
And planted violets at her head;
And we raised a stone and wrote quite plain,
“Here lies a dear doll who died of pain.”
And then my brother, said he, “Amen,”
And we all went back to the house again,
But all the same I cried and cried,
Because I’d a right when my doll had died.
And then we had more jam and bread,
But I didn’t eat, ’cause my doll was dead.
But I tied some crape on my doll house door,
And then I stood and cried some more.
I couldn’t be happy, don’t you see!
Because the funeral belonged to me.
And then the others went home, and then
I went out and dug up my doll again.
