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 Sue's man's mind is like good jell—
 * All one color, and clear—

And Mig's no call to think at all
 * What's to come next year,

While Joan makes boast of a gentle lad,
 * That's troubled with that and this;—

But they all would give the life they live
 * For a look from the man I kiss!

Cold he slants his eyes about,
 * And few enough's his choice,—

Though he'd slip me clean for a nun, or a queen,
 * Or a beggar with knots in her voice,—

And Agatha will turn awake
 * When her good man sleeps sound,

And Mig and Sue and Joan and Prue
 * Will hear the clock strike round,

For Prue she has a patient man,
 * As asks not when or why,

And Mig and Sue have naught to do
 * But peep who's passing by,

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