1 Who'll buy a nosegay, cried a sweet little child,
An orphan, left wretched and poor;
I've rosebuds and pinks, and sweet briar wild,
And heaven will bless you thrice o'er.
Chorus:
Then pray buy my roses, indeed they're not dear,
Each bud shall be moisten'd with gratitude's tear.
2 Pray buy my roses--very hard is my fate,
My poor little sisters want bread;
Bestow but a mite, before 'tis too late,
Our parents to heaven are fled. [Chorus]