Comes nateral to women.

He stood a spell on one foot fust,

Then stood a spell on t’other,

An’ on which one he felt the wust

He couldn’t ha’ told ye nuther.

Sez he, “I’d better call agin;”

Sez she, “Think likely, Mister;”

Thet last word pricked him like a pin,

An’ ... Wal he up an’ kist her.

When Ma bimeby upon ’em slips,