I know sometimes I'm naughty,
But I find it hard to always be good.
To remember not to do things that I shouldn't
And to do the things that I should.
I know I make you cross and shout
When I do naughty things
But-if God meant me to be an angel,
Then, where did he put my wings?
I've looked and looked but I can't find them
Or perhaps they never grew.
Still I'll pretend I've got them anyway
So I can be an angel just for you.
But if sometimes I forget,
'Cause I haven't any wings to uncurl
Then p'rhaps it's really I'm no angel,
But just a little girl.