TO A PRETTY GIRL.
(Who accepted some verses.)
You take my lines, and say that you
Appreciate my humble verses.
That's more than editors will do,
Or publishers, with bloated purses.
To gain your thanks in such a way,
I'd write you verses night and day.
You don't return them, saying you
Regret you cannot now accept them.
Or, scrawled with marks in blatant blue,
To show that, ruined, you have kept them.
If you would pay me with a smile,
I'd write you verses by the mile.
If you could only say that you
Would like me for my admiration,
To sing your charms till all was blue
Would be delightful occupation.
If I could hope to win a kiss,
I'd write you fifty miles like this.
| First Boy. "Give us a Bite of your Apple, Bob." | Second Boy. "Shan't." |
| First Boy. "What for?" | Second Boy. "'Cos yer axed me!" |
(After a pause.)
Small Boy. "Gi' me a Bite, Bob. I never axed yer!"