The Little Queen's Coming.

With Roses—red Roses, We'll pelt her with Roses, And Lilies—white Lilies we'll drop at her feet; The little Queen's coming, The people are running— The people are running to greet and to meet. Then clash out a welcome, Let all the bells sound, come, To give her a welcoming proud and sweet. How her blue eyes will beam, And her golden curls gleam, When the sound of our singing rings down the street.