On Saturday night shall be my care
To powder my locks and curl my hair.
On Sunday morning my love will come in,
When he will marry me with a gold ring.
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About the Author: Miss Polly
Now that her dolly has grown up and moved out, Miss Polly is on the hunt for other sick, lonely and vulnerable creatures to smother with love and dodgy herbal cure-alls. She believes that Old Mac will help her find these poor dears and has signed on as his receptionist.
