There Is a llttlc baby, Always khii tle. always sweet, Wh i doesn't l-k a beauty Ihatc n rauke a hHbe complete; Whouever cries untlinely. Wlio in never. never rude, Whlle anythlug she doesu't know No mortal baby could. So wliiHnme aml so d Inty That thecareleKS turn to look, Iiut, O I tli im perfect baby Is a baby In a book. Tnere a little bby Wim in hereyos; And inaiiy a fault the crlLlcal ighlcoldly crittciae. Her nose la oversaucy, Her temper doe Incline, When lier amall world isg ilug wrong, To takea twll llke mine. And balf the peopie pass her by, Nor deern her worlh a look. Uut. O! she snlts me beller Thnn the baby In the book.