Brown, a Chicago youth, did woo
A beauteous Detroit belle,
And for a month—or, maybe, two—
He wooed the lovely lady well.
But, oh! one day—one fatal day—
As mused the belle with naught to do,
A local paper came her way
And, drat the luck! she read it through.
She read of alleys black with mire—
A river with a putrid breath—