And I met with a ballad, I can’t say where,
Which wholly consisted of lines like these.
PART II
She sat with her hands ’neath her dimpled cheeks,
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)
And spake not a word. While a lady speaks
There is hope, but she didn’t even sneeze.
She sat, with her hands ’neath her crimson cheeks;
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)
She gave up mending her father’s breeks,