And she turned,—her fist was shaken at the coolness of the lie;
She was mad, and I could see it, by the snapping of her eye,
Saying, "I have hid my feelings, fearing they should do thee wrong,"—
Saying, "I shall whip you, Sammy, whipping I shall go it strong."
She took me up, and turned me pretty roughly, when she'd done,
And every time she shook me, I tried to jerk and run;
She took off my little coat, and struck again with all her might,
And before another minute, I was free, and out of sight.
Many a morning, just to tease her, did I tell her stories yet,
Though her whisper made me tingle, when she told me what I'd get;