She will always be my sweet sister, Hilda pretty and fair,
Daintily seated on her chair.
She is like a wild rose blooming on a coast,
For I will always love Hilda the most!
She is like a Summer morning the birds mistake her for it,
Cross is she? Rarely even a bit.
There she sits pretty on the lea,
She is quite a fond treasure for me.
I love her so much,
I would love to buy her pretty things and such.
Beauty always stays with her,
And never does it cur.
I love you, Hilda dear,
And so glad am I that with me you can stay all the year!!

~Marian~