Her cheeks were rich with crimson glow,
Her lips were thin and cute,
And many an anxious lover
She sternly did refute.
Her dainty hands and flowing hair,
And graceful curves of form
Would make one's heart quite palpitate—
She carried all by storm.
Trueman Waddington was a man
Who loved his daughter—heir,
And as he rolled in endless wealth
He watched his child's welfare.
Their nearest neighbor was St. Lawrence,
Who lived a little way
Off on the rugged mountain side,
Where children like to play.
Two children he had buried
When they were yet quite young,
And now he was a happy man
'Cause he reared an only son.