Hanging Out Betsy to Dry

I watch her hanging on the line,
her hair is dripping tears.
She’s holding on with her finger tips,
it’s the worst of all my fears.

The line is much too high for me
to take her down and hold her.
Of all the dolls she’s my favourite
and she’s cold and getting colder.

I left her lying in the mud
and I know that’s very wrong,
so I’m waiting here until she dries.
I hope it won’t take long.