Little girls, little girls, everywhere I turn, I can see them. Little girls, little girls, night and day I eat, sleep and breathe them. I'm an ordinary woman with feelings. I like a man to nibble on my ear. Though I'll admit, no man has fit. So how come I'm the mother of the year? How I hate little shoes, little socks, and each little bloomer. I'd have cracked years ago if it weren't for my sense of humor. Some women are dripping with diamonds. Some women are dripping with pearls. Lucky me, lucky me, look at what I'm dripping with, little girls. Little cheeks, little teeth, everything around me is little. If I ring their little necks, surely I would get an acquittal. Someday I'll step on their freckles. Some night I'll straighten their curls. Send a flood, send a flu, anything that you can do to little, little, little. Little, little, little, little, little girls. Someday I'll wind in the gnat house with all the knots and the swirls. There I'll stay, tucked away till the prohibition of little girls.