The Meanest Man
“Tell you why I never got married?
I’d as lief as not, Sarah Ann,
I never but once got an offer,
And then—well, he wasn’t the man.
Tell the story—yes, if you wish it,
You cannot remember I know
When the widow Wemp an’ her youngster
Moved in the old cottage below.
That spring was as backward as could be,
The nights and the days were so cold,
Not a bird had a bit of a song
But the robins, saucy and bold.
Did you ever try to be kind to
A kitten that scarcely could stand?
Half starved, or half drowned, or half frozen,
Yet it flies from your outstretched hand?
Well, ’twas just so with that little one
When I tried to get him one day,
My heart kind of melted watching him
At his solemn unchildish play.
A bran new idea, but struck me
As I washed the dishes that night,
I sauntered down to the cottage
With a basket, not very light.
Oh, but that was a comfortless room!
The widow so thin and white
Was rocking the boy, and a dimness
Came over my eyes at the sight.
I walked right up to her and kissed her,
Says I, little woman I know
Things haven’t gone well with you lately,
Or you wouldn’t look as you do.