IV.

Yesterday I stood behind your chair
When you was kind of bendin' down to write,
And I could see your neck, so soft and white,
And notice where the poker singed your hair,
And then you looked around and seen me there,
And kind of smiled, and I could seem to feel
A sudden empty, sinkish feelin' where
I'm all filled up when I've just e't a meal.
Dear Frankie, where your soft, sweet finger tips
Hit on the keys I often touch my lips,
And wunst I kissed your little overshoe,
And I have got a hairpin that you wore—
One day I found it on the office floor—
I'd throw my job up if they fired you.

V.

She's got a dimple in her chin, and, oh,
How soft and smooth it looks; her eyes are blue;
The red seems always tryin' to peep through
The middle of her cheeks. I'd like to go
And lay my face up next to hers and throw
My arms around her neck, with just us two
Alone together, but not carin' who
Might scold if they should see us actin' so.
If I would know that some poor girl loved me
As much as I do her, sometimes I'd take
Her in my arms a little while and make
Her happy just for kindness, and to see
The pleased look that acrost her face'd break,
And hear the sighs that showed how glad she'd be.

VI.

When you're typewritin' and that long-legged clerk
Tips back there on his chair and smiles at you,
And you look up and get to smilin', too,
I'd like to go and give his chair a jerk
And send him flyin' till his head went through
The door that goes out to the hall, and when
They picked him up he'd be all black and blue
And you'd be nearly busted laughin' then.
But if I done it, maybe you would run
And hold his head and smooth his hair and say
It made you sad that he got dumped that way,
And I'd get h'isted out for what I done—
I wish that he'd get fired and you'd stay
And suddenly I'd be a man some day.