If you want to learn a lesson with the fan,
I'm quite prepared to teach you all I can.
So ladies, everyone, pray observe how it is done,
This simple little lesson with the fan!
If you chance to be invited to a ball,
To meet someone you don't expect at all,
And you want him close beside you, while a dozen friends divide you,
Well, of course—it's most unladylike to call.
So you look at him a minute, nothing more,
And you cast your eyes demurely on the floor,
Then you wave your fan, just so, well—toward you, don't you know,—
It's a delicate suggestion,—nothing more!
When you see him coming to you (simple you),
Oh! be very, very careful what you do;
With your fan just idly play, and look down, as if to say
It's a matter of indifference to you!
Then you flutter and you fidget with it, so!
And you hide your little nose behind it low,
Till, when he begins to speak, you just lay it on your cheek,
In that fascinating manner that you know!
And when he tells the old tale o'er and o'er,
And vows that he will love you evermore,—
Gather up your little fan, and secure him while you can,—
It's a delicate suggestion,—nothing more!
THE UNDERTOW
BY CARRIE BLAKE MORGAN
You hadn't ought to blame a man fer things he hasn't done
Fer books he hasn't written or fer fights he hasn't won;
The waters may look placid on the surface all aroun',
Yet there may be an undertow a-keepin' of him down.
Since the days of Eve and Adam, when the fight of life began,
It aint been safe, my brethren, fer to lightly judge a man;
He may be tryin' faithful fer to make his life a go,
And yet his feet git tangled in the treacherous undertow.