And peep out of one eye.
“Dat’s dear Miss Nancy Dawson
What am it she’s got dar?
I t’ink it’s beau’ful oranges,
Jes’ like her golden ha’r.”
“Come here! Susannah Teabout,”
Sweet Nancy Dawson cried,
As out between the table-cloths
Susannah’s face she spied.
Susannah bashfully came forth.