I beg of you all just a little time
In which to attend to this dear class of mine.
Dear Tuesday night girls you should all have a prize,
And it makes me feel sad, and tears dim my eyes
When I think that for most of you I have no prize.
But a dear little “tot” in this class doth belong
Whose euphonious cognomen is Margaret Armstrong,
If she will come forward, I gladly will give
A prize she can cherish as long as she’ll live.
And here is another for Nellie J. Bell,
Whose sweet resonant tones you all know so well;
Come hither, dear Nellie, a friend greets you now,
Here, take this small package and make a large bow,
While I tell your dear classmates, with smiles all serene,
That soon you will rival the renowned Lawyer Green.
Ah! here is another, it seems to be round,
I wonder for which of the class it is bound.
It may be intended for some gentle “myth”
But no, my dear friends, it is meant for Miss Smith,
Who’ll take the world easy wherever she is,—
Will she take it this evening and smile as she does?
Here’s something else before we pass on
For our dear kind teacher, Mr. W. L. Mason,
For oft have I seen the briny tear start
To his bright kindly eyes, while my classmates so smart
Were kept waiting, while I tried to write like the chart.
