When little dolls in Nurs'ry Street,
Do anything that's wrong;
Throw stones, or knock each other down,
Policeman comes along.

"Move on, move on," Policeman cries;
Be sure they never fail;
For if they did not move at once,
He'd take them off to jail.

Mollie's frock is crimson,
Her petticoat's of lace;
Mollie's hair is golden,
And curls about her face.

Mollie's friends are many,
She's off to visit one;
Mollie takes her sunshade,
To keep away the sun.

Swing up!
Swing down!
Here goes the clown.

Swing left!
Swing right!
Mind you hold tight.

Swing low!
Swing high!
Right to the sky.

Dolly's home's far away,
Far away in Algiers,
On the African coast,
She won't see it for years.

But she whispers at night,
And her eyes fill with tears;
"How I wish—how I wish,
I were back in Algiers!"