“I always thought him like a candle made of tallow.”
But she much admired that dark-eyed Greek;
She used to sit by him and softly stroke his cheek.
(White lies.)
At length of this Greek youth she grew quite tired,
And her heart with love to a young Scotchman was fired.
He was young, just turned nineteen,
Hair brown, eyes blue, by nature somewhat green.
Oh, I can’t tell of that long, long tale of love!
He thought her constant, sweet, gentle as a dove.