The Pall Mall Magazine/The Flower of the Flock

Doos ya lellee! Doos ya lellee! Tread, O joy of my life, tread lightly! Thy feet are the wings of a dove, And thy heart is of fire. On thy wounds I will pour the king's salve. I will hang On thy neck the long chain of wrought gold, When the gates of Bagdad are before us— Doos ya lellee! Doos ya lellee!”