Page:Pieces People Ask For.djvu/221

Rh They'd look at your cold remains before
 * They followed you down to the ferry,

And the coaches standing at the door
 * Would go to the cemetery.

But you, if I was once in the box,
 * (I wonder her lips don't blister!)

I tell you, Pat, what you'd be at—
 * You'd marry your widdy's sister!

When you was under the sod I'd sigh,
 * And—if I could do without you—

Mebbe I've a strapping lad in my eye
 * Would come here and talk about you.

A little courtin' would be divertin',
 * A kind voice whispering "Biddy!"

And a kiss on the sly—for what's the hurt in
 * A man consoling a widdy?

But you, before I was dead at all,
 * (Now don't deny that you kissed her!)

I tell you, Pat, what you'd be at—
 * You'd marry your widdy's sister!

R. H. Stoddard.

" my arm-chair, faithful Pompey,
 * In the sunshine bright and strong,

For this world is fading, Pompey—
 * Massa won't be with you long;

And I fain would hear the south wind
 * Bring once more the sound to me,

Of the wavelets softly breaking
 * On the shores of Tennessee.

"Mournful though the ripples murmur,
 * As they still the story tell,

How no vessels float the banner
 * That I've loved so long and well,

I shall listen to their music,
 * Dreaming that again I see

Stars and strips on sloop and shallop
 * Sailing up the Tennessee;