Comes natural to women.

He stood a spell on one foot fust,

Then stood a spell on t’other,

An’ on which one he felt the wust

He couldn’t ha’ told ye nuther.

Says he, ‘I’d better call agin;’

Says she, ‘Think likely, mister;’

Thet last word pricked him like a pin,

An’—wall, he up an’ kist her.

When ma bimeby upon ‘em slips,