POPPING CORN.—616.
And there they sat a-popping corn,
John Stiles and Susan Cutter;
John Stiles as stout as any ox,
And Susan fat as butter.
And there they sat and shelled the corn,
And raked and stirred the fire,
And talked of different kinds of ears,
And hitched their chairs up nigher.
Then Susan she the popper shook,
Then John he shook the popper,
Till both their faces grew as red
As saucepans made of copper.
And then they shelled and popped and ate,
And kinks of fun a-poking,
And he haw-hawed at her remarks,
And she laughed at his joking.
And still they popped, and still they ate
(John's mouth was like a hopper),
And stirred the fire and sparkled salt,
And shook and shook the popper.
The clock struck nine, the clock struck ten,
And still the corn kept popping:
It struck eleven, and then struck twelve,
And still no signs of stopping.
And John he ate, and Sue she thought—
The corn did pop and patter,
Till John cried out: "The corn's a fire!
Why, Susan, what's the matter?"
Said she, "John Stiles, it's one o'clock;
You'll die of indigestion;
I'm sick of all this popping corn,
Why don't you Pop the Question?"