She is Overheard Singing
Oh,Prue she has a patient man,And Joan a gentle lover,And Agatha’s Arth’ is a hug-the-hearth,—But my true love’s a rover!Mig, her man’s as good as cheeseAnd honest as a briar,Sue tells her love what he’s thinking of,—But my dear lad’s a liar!Oh, Sue and Prue and AgathaAre thick with Mig and Joan!They bite their threads and shake their headsAnd gnaw my name like a bone;And Prue says, “Mine’s a patient man,As never snaps me up,”And Agatha, “Arth’ is a hug-the-hearth,Could live content in a cup;”Sue’s man’s mind is like good jell—All one colour, and clear—And Mig’s no call to think at allWhat’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 liveFor 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 awakeWhen her good man sleeps sound,And Mig and Sue and Joan and PrueWill 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 doBut peep who’s passing by,Joan is paired with a puttererThat bastes and tastes and salts,And Agatha’s Arth’ is a hug-the-hearth,—But my true love is false!
Oh,Prue she has a patient man,And Joan a gentle lover,And Agatha’s Arth’ is a hug-the-hearth,—But my true love’s a rover!Mig, her man’s as good as cheeseAnd honest as a briar,Sue tells her love what he’s thinking of,—But my dear lad’s a liar!Oh, Sue and Prue and AgathaAre thick with Mig and Joan!They bite their threads and shake their headsAnd gnaw my name like a bone;And Prue says, “Mine’s a patient man,As never snaps me up,”And Agatha, “Arth’ is a hug-the-hearth,Could live content in a cup;”Sue’s man’s mind is like good jell—All one colour, and clear—And Mig’s no call to think at allWhat’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 liveFor 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 awakeWhen her good man sleeps sound,And Mig and Sue and Joan and PrueWill 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 doBut peep who’s passing by,Joan is paired with a puttererThat bastes and tastes and salts,And Agatha’s Arth’ is a hug-the-hearth,—But my true love is false!
Oh,Prue she has a patient man,And Joan a gentle lover,And Agatha’s Arth’ is a hug-the-hearth,—But my true love’s a rover!
Mig, her man’s as good as cheeseAnd honest as a briar,Sue tells her love what he’s thinking of,—But my dear lad’s a liar!
Oh, Sue and Prue and AgathaAre thick with Mig and Joan!They bite their threads and shake their headsAnd gnaw my name like a bone;
And Prue says, “Mine’s a patient man,As never snaps me up,”And Agatha, “Arth’ is a hug-the-hearth,Could live content in a cup;”
Sue’s man’s mind is like good jell—All one colour, and clear—And Mig’s no call to think at allWhat’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 liveFor 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 awakeWhen her good man sleeps sound,And Mig and Sue and Joan and PrueWill 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 doBut peep who’s passing by,
Joan is paired with a puttererThat bastes and tastes and salts,And Agatha’s Arth’ is a hug-the-hearth,—But my true love is false!