(Harnick/Bock) Alone in the world was poor little Anne As sweet a young child as you'd find Her parents had gone to their final reward Leaving their baby behind Did you hear this poor little child was only nine years of age When mother and dad went away Still she bravely worked at the one thing she knew To earn a few pennies a day She made artificial flowers, artificial flowers Flowers for ladies of fashion to wear She made artificial flowers, artificial flowers Fashioned from Annie's despair With papers and shears, with wire and wax She made up each tulip and mum As snow flakes drifted in to her tenement room Her baby little fingers grew numb >From artificial flowers, those artificial flowers Flowers for ladies of high fashion to wear She made artificial flowers, artificial flowers Made from Annie's despair And they found little Annie all covered in ice Still clutching her poor frozen shears Amidst all the blossoms, she had fashioned by hand And watered with all her young tears There must be a Heaven where little Annie can play In heavenly gardens and bowers And instead of halo, she'll wear round her head A garland of genuine flowers No more artificial flowers, artificial flowers Flowers for ladies of society to wear Those artificial flowers, artificial flowers Fashioned from Annie's Fashioned from Annie's despair