You are here

Little Maid of Arcadee

Printer-friendly versionPrinter-friendly version
Arthur Sullivan Words: W.S. Gilbert

Little maid of Arcadee,
sat on cousin Robin’s knee.
Thought in face and form and limb
nobody could rival him.
He was brave and she was fair,
Thruth, they made a pretty pair,
Happy little maiden she,
Happy maid of Arcadee.

Moments sped as moments will,
Happily enough; until
after, say, a month or two
Robin did as robins do
weary of his lover’s play
Jilted her and went away.
Wretched little maiden she,
Wretched maid of Arcadee.

To her little home she crept.
There she sat her down and wept.
Maiden wept as maidens will.
Grew so thin and pale until,
Cousin Richard came to woo.
Then again the roses grew.
Happy little maiden she
Happy maid of Arcadee