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She is my little girl, you see.
In my mind's eye she's still just three,
sitting so sweetly on her chair
with giggles, dimples, curly hair.

It's only right to let you know
what happened to her first young beau;
he had designs on her for sure –
it made me beat my breast and roar!

And when she said he'd done her harm
I sought him out and broke his arm;
I only stopped because I'm nice
and shouldn't go to prison twice.

The dog mauled Tom as in he strode;
I did chase Richard down the road.
Harry moved to miles away
and Edward . . . better not to say.

So, watch it, every teenage lout
who dares to think he'll take her out.
For none of you will do for me.
She is my little girl, you see.