Curly Locks! Curly Locks! Wilt Thou Be Mine? Thou Shalt Not Wash The Dishes, Nor Yet Feed The Swine, - But Sit On A Cushion And Sew A Fine Seam, And Feast Upon Strawberries, Sugar And Cream. Curly Locks! Curly Locks! Wilt Thou Be Mine? The Throb Of My Heart Is In Every Line, And The Pulse Of A Passion As Airy And Glad In Its Musical Beat As The Little Prince Had! Thou Shalt Not Wash The Dishes, Nor Yet Feed The Swine! - O I'll Dapple Thy Hands With These Kisses Of Mine Till The Pink Of The Nail Of Each Finger Shall Be As A Little Pet Blush In Full Blossom For Me. But Sit On A Cushion And Sew A Fine Seam, And Thou Shalt Have Fabric As Fair As A Dream, - The Red Of My Veins, And The White Of My Love, And The Gold Of My Joy For The Braiding Thereof. And Feast Upon Strawberries, Sugar And Cream From A Service Of Silver, With Jewels Agleam, - At Thy Feet Will I Bide, At Thy Beck Will I Rise, And Twinkle My Soul In The Night Of Thine Eyes! Curly Locks! Curly Locks! Wilt Thou Be Mine? Thou Shalt Not Wash The Dishes, Nor Yet Feed The Swine. - But Sit On A Cushion And Sew A Fine Seam, And Feast Upon Strawberries, Sugar And Cream.