Page:The Bab Ballads.djvu/166

164 Now take my case: Ere sorrow could
 * My ample forehead wrinkle,

I had determined that I would
 * Not like to be a winkle.

"A winkle," I would oft advance
 * With readiness provoking,

"Can seldom flirt, and never dance,
 * Or sooth his mind by smoking."

In short, I spurned the shelly joy,
 * And spoke with strange decision—

Men pointed to me as a boy
 * Who held them in derision.

But I was young—too young, by far—
 * Or I had been more wary,

I knew not then that winkles are
 * The stock-in-trade of.

I had not seen her sunlight blithe
 * As o'er their shells it dances,

I've seen those winkles almost writhe
 * Beneath her beaming glances.