Oh, where is Little Maggie? Over yonder she stand,

Rifle on her shoulder, six-shooter in her hand.

How can I ever stand it, just to see them two blue eyes

Shining like some diamonds, like some diamonds in the sky?

Rather be in some lonely hollow where the sun don't ever shine

Than to see you be another man's darling and to know that you'll never be mine.

Well, it's march me away to the station with my suitcase in my hand,

Yes, march me away to the station, I'm off to some far, distant land.

Sometimes I have a nickel and sometimes I have a dime,

Sometimes I have ten dollars just to pay Little Maggie's wine.

Pretty flowers are made for blooming, pretty stars are made to shine,

Pretty girls are made for boys' love, Little Maggie was made for mine.

Well, yonder stands Little Maggie with a dram-glass in her hand,

She's a-drinking down her troubles over courting some other man.