They throw her to the wolves.
She is down and out,
She is in the gloomy forest,
She cries out in her sleep,
She is left high and dry,
Poor little beautiful girl,
As cute as a button,
She is hungry as a bear,
She is dry as wooden gods,
She has a frog in her throat,
And she is twisting in the wind.
Oh, God!
Pull her out of the fire.
She is still your babe in arms.
