This fondly foolish heart of mine!
On Remnant Days—from morn till night,
When blows fall fast, and words run high,
When frenzied females fiercely fight
For bargains that they long to buy—
From hot attack he does not flinch,
But stands his ground with visage pale,
And all the time looks every inch
The Hero of that Summer Sale!
For oh! a King of Men is he—