OH, darn it all! -- afeared of her, And such a mite of a gal; Why, two of her size rolled into one Won't ditto sister Sal! Her voice is sweet as the whippoorwill's, And the sunshine's in her hair; But I'd rather face a redskin's knife, Or the grip of a grizzly bear. Yet Sal says, "Why, she's such a dear, She's just the one for you." Oh, darn it all! -- afeared of a gal, And me just six feet two! Though she ain't any size, while I'm Considerable tall, I'm nowhere when she speaks to me, She makes me feel so small. My face grows red, my tongue gets hitched, The cussed thing won't go; It riles me, 'cause it makes her think I'm most tarnation slow. And though folks say she's sweet on me, I guess it can't be true. Oh, darn it all! -- afeared of a gal, And me just six feet two! My sakes! just s'pose if what the folks Is saying should be so! Go, Cousin Jane, and speak to her, Find out and let me know; Tell her the gals should court the men, For isn't this leap-year? That's why I'm kind of bashful like, A waiting for her here. And should she hear I'm scared of her, You'll swear it can't be true. Oh, darn it all! -- afeared of a gal, And me just six feet two! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPITHALAMION MADE AT LINCOLNES INNE by JOHN DONNE BREAKFAST by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON THE MILKING-MAID by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI WOMAN'S WILL by JOHN GODFREY SAXE BLUE CANTON-WARE by SARAH A. ATHEARN I'D BE A BUTTERFLY by THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY AT SABBATH DOWN by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON IN VINCULIS; SONNETS WRITTEN IN AN IRISH PRISON: A CONVENT WITHOUT GOD by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |