The proud man sighed with a furnace force
“Ah could I only get a divorce
And marry the girl I saw that day
When I had the Fever of the Hay.”
She wedded a man unlearned and poor
And they had twins every twelve month—sure;
And oft when the summer sun shone hot
She wished she could drown the pesky lot.
Again in the shade of the apple trees
She saw a rider draw rein, and sneeze,