There's a nawful pretty teacher at our school, an' once I told her That I thought we might be married if she'd wait till I was older; There was no one 'cept my mother that I liked so well, I said. She didn't even answer, but she laughed at me instead. She's forgotten all about it, an' it seems to me a pity That folks what are so cruel should be made so awful pretty. But I guess I'll make her sorry that she treated me so hard, If I do what I've been plannin', an' I die in her front yard. |