Page:Southern Life in Southern Literature.djvu/459

Rh She amputates her r s, But her eyes are like the stars Overhead. On a balcony at night With a fleecy cloud of white Round her hair Her grace, ah, who could paint? She would fascinate a saint, I declare. T is a matter of regret, She s a bit of a coquette, Whom I sing: On her cruel path she goes With a half a dozen beaux To her string. But let all that pass by, As her maiden moments fly Dew empearled; When she marries, on my life. She will make the dearest wife In the world.

THE GRAPEVINE SVING

When I was a boy on the old plantation, Down by the deep bayou, The fairest spot of all creation, Under the arching blue;