Everywoman Song
O some men are married to gorgons
Who swallow them at one swallow,
And some are married to frigidaires
And dwell in an icy hollow.
And some there arc, that are bound in chains
As golden as they can be
But you're the luckiest one of all
For Darling . . . you've just got me!
Sung in High Dudgeon!
I'd like to be the deadly type
Who plunge the knife . . . before they wipe
The previous victim's flowing gore
From off the blade. Sad to relate I seem to be
The victim! … A chicken-hearted sort of thing
I've no desire for "skewering"
My fellow man.
But by observing I may learn
To give that rapier lightning turn!
Wise Child
To sing to you would be absurd.
You'd not believe a single word!
To touch you would be madder still,
And so I sit and fill . . . and fill
My eyes with looking. Like a child
Who sees an iced cake,
But knows from sad experience
The tummy ache!
Women are Like That
"Here, in the drift of the dunes" he said,
"Turn your head"!
"Now the curve of your throat is a troubling song
Your face is a flower, dreaming and white,
My heart cries out in the rapturous night.
Give me your lips and your heart", said he,
But she shook her head . . . emphatically!
"Gee, but you're sweet!", the other said,
And tilted back her little head
Appreciatively.
He didn't call her "fairest one",
She didn't mind … or think it queer …
But looked on him, adoringly,
And whispered . . .
"O my Dearest Dear"!
Tea-Party
They get their heads together,
The honeyed malice drips.
And all the gentler little wives
Get out their blacksnake whips.