037:

There once was a doll named Sophie,
who used to wear a frown,
I found her one day on the playground
and I never put her down.

We used to go out dancing
oh, how she loved to cut a rug,
I'd laugh at her gay enthusiasm,
and be met with a smile and a shrug.

We don't go out so much these days,
she says she's had her fill
of men who don't really like her
and whose drinks somehow always spill.

She sits and tells me stories,
tales of her past,
she says I get the privilege of listening
since I was always too polite to ask.

She tells me of her previous owners
who threw her fragile body around
how they would get angry with her
if she ever made a sound.

They'd try to cover up her cracks
with clay and paint and frills
she would sit all day,
abandoned,
keeping absolutely still.

Her eyes soon lost their sparkle,
her skin had lost its touch,
she missed the people she once loved
very, very much.

She became fed up with everything.
She ran away one day
but when winter hit she became very lost
she had gone too far astray.

So she waited, crushed beneath the snow
until all hope seemed to go
far, far away
until I came upon her one fine day.

And as I strolled back home with her
pressed tightly against my chest,
I assured her that she would always have
a loving place to rest.

I brushed her hair
and I mended her clothes
and what she thought of me then,
God only knows.

But she tells me now,
with every passing day,
each crack and each chip
is fading away.

We're best of friends,
Sophie and I.
We're both glad that we didn't die.

We love each other,
clear as day,
and I promise her
I will never go away.