I have a little rag doll,
Her name is Annie May
And I knew when I got her,
That she was here to stay.

She has the sweetest velvet smile,
She has no tongue or teeth,
But I know she talks to me at night,
I hear her in my sleep.

My brother likes to laugh at me,
He thinks he's always right,
And one day he ripped her open
And held her to the light.

"Look," he said, and made me,
When he'd taken her apart,
"She has stuffing for a brain,
And she has no heart.

"She has no ears to speak of,
And blue buttons for her eyes!"
Mom and Dad came running in,
When they heard my rending cries.

Mom picked up poor Annie May,
And sent my brother straight to bed,
And listened as I gulped out,
All the horrid things he'd said.

"Does she know when you are lonely?"
Mom asked fixing Annie May,
"Do you just have to hold her tight,
To feel better right away?

"Do you tell her all your secrets,
Include her in your games?
Does she come to your pretend parties,
And never ever call you names?"

She smiled as I kept nodding,
Again and once again,
It didn't matter that May had wool for hair,
Or stuffing for a brain.

And when my brother came back down,
I told him I was right,
And took my patched up Annie May
And held her to the light.

"Sure she has a heart and brain,
And eyes and ears too,
And you could see them clear as day,
If you loved her as I do.

"And even if she had none of these,
It wouldn't matter anyway,
I'd love her just the way she is,
My sweetest Annie May."