My father comes from Quaker stock That frowns upon a laugh; My mother's southern cavalier, And I am half and half. I never breakfast late in bed Some sunny Sunday morning, But what my sober, Quaker half Lifts up his hands in warning. And evenings, when I pull the shades, And go to bed at ten, The Cavalier longs for the lights, And would be roistering then. My very eyes betray my plight, And tell the tale each minute, For one is brown -- but one is green, And has the devil in it! |