I’m Getting Too Big to Kiss.The friends of my childhood with pleasure I greet,Their faces I ever hold dear,In palace or cottage, on meadow or street,Wherever they chance to appear.Then do not misjudge me, and deem me not cold,Nor call me a queen, haughty miss,Oh, no one can budge me, so do not be bold,I’m getting too—too big to kiss.’Tis hardly a year since the guests of the house,On leaving, would kiss me adieu,The parson, the deacon, old Schnider Von Krouse,Ned Blanc, and the young squire, too.They called me a treasure, a sweet, roguish maid;Now nonsense like that is amiss,Though once ’twas a pleasure, I’m really afraidThat somebody’s too big to kiss.Now if you should happen by moonlight to walk,With some one you know very well,Remember ’tis harmless to laugh and to talk,Or sweet little stories to tell.But oh, have a care, girls, and heed me, I pray,For what I would counsel is this—Refuse, though his hair curls, and promptly this say:I’m getting, sir, too big to kiss.Oh, no, no, no, no, sir! Allow me to pass;Oh, no, sir, ’tis more than I dare:That game’s out of fashion (I’m sorry, alas!)You needn’t look cross as a bear.Yet still I’ve an ember of pity right here,I’ll throw you just one kiss like this,But, sir, you’ll remember, now don’t come so near—That really I’m too big to kiss.—George M. Vickers.
The friends of my childhood with pleasure I greet,Their faces I ever hold dear,In palace or cottage, on meadow or street,Wherever they chance to appear.Then do not misjudge me, and deem me not cold,Nor call me a queen, haughty miss,Oh, no one can budge me, so do not be bold,I’m getting too—too big to kiss.’Tis hardly a year since the guests of the house,On leaving, would kiss me adieu,The parson, the deacon, old Schnider Von Krouse,Ned Blanc, and the young squire, too.They called me a treasure, a sweet, roguish maid;Now nonsense like that is amiss,Though once ’twas a pleasure, I’m really afraidThat somebody’s too big to kiss.Now if you should happen by moonlight to walk,With some one you know very well,Remember ’tis harmless to laugh and to talk,Or sweet little stories to tell.But oh, have a care, girls, and heed me, I pray,For what I would counsel is this—Refuse, though his hair curls, and promptly this say:I’m getting, sir, too big to kiss.Oh, no, no, no, no, sir! Allow me to pass;Oh, no, sir, ’tis more than I dare:That game’s out of fashion (I’m sorry, alas!)You needn’t look cross as a bear.Yet still I’ve an ember of pity right here,I’ll throw you just one kiss like this,But, sir, you’ll remember, now don’t come so near—That really I’m too big to kiss.—George M. Vickers.
The friends of my childhood with pleasure I greet,Their faces I ever hold dear,In palace or cottage, on meadow or street,Wherever they chance to appear.Then do not misjudge me, and deem me not cold,Nor call me a queen, haughty miss,Oh, no one can budge me, so do not be bold,I’m getting too—too big to kiss.’Tis hardly a year since the guests of the house,On leaving, would kiss me adieu,The parson, the deacon, old Schnider Von Krouse,Ned Blanc, and the young squire, too.They called me a treasure, a sweet, roguish maid;Now nonsense like that is amiss,Though once ’twas a pleasure, I’m really afraidThat somebody’s too big to kiss.Now if you should happen by moonlight to walk,With some one you know very well,Remember ’tis harmless to laugh and to talk,Or sweet little stories to tell.But oh, have a care, girls, and heed me, I pray,For what I would counsel is this—Refuse, though his hair curls, and promptly this say:I’m getting, sir, too big to kiss.Oh, no, no, no, no, sir! Allow me to pass;Oh, no, sir, ’tis more than I dare:That game’s out of fashion (I’m sorry, alas!)You needn’t look cross as a bear.Yet still I’ve an ember of pity right here,I’ll throw you just one kiss like this,But, sir, you’ll remember, now don’t come so near—That really I’m too big to kiss.—George M. Vickers.
The friends of my childhood with pleasure I greet,
Their faces I ever hold dear,
In palace or cottage, on meadow or street,
Wherever they chance to appear.
Then do not misjudge me, and deem me not cold,
Nor call me a queen, haughty miss,
Oh, no one can budge me, so do not be bold,
I’m getting too—too big to kiss.
’Tis hardly a year since the guests of the house,On leaving, would kiss me adieu,The parson, the deacon, old Schnider Von Krouse,Ned Blanc, and the young squire, too.They called me a treasure, a sweet, roguish maid;Now nonsense like that is amiss,Though once ’twas a pleasure, I’m really afraidThat somebody’s too big to kiss.
’Tis hardly a year since the guests of the house,
On leaving, would kiss me adieu,
The parson, the deacon, old Schnider Von Krouse,
Ned Blanc, and the young squire, too.
They called me a treasure, a sweet, roguish maid;
Now nonsense like that is amiss,
Though once ’twas a pleasure, I’m really afraid
That somebody’s too big to kiss.
Now if you should happen by moonlight to walk,With some one you know very well,Remember ’tis harmless to laugh and to talk,Or sweet little stories to tell.But oh, have a care, girls, and heed me, I pray,For what I would counsel is this—Refuse, though his hair curls, and promptly this say:I’m getting, sir, too big to kiss.
Now if you should happen by moonlight to walk,
With some one you know very well,
Remember ’tis harmless to laugh and to talk,
Or sweet little stories to tell.
But oh, have a care, girls, and heed me, I pray,
For what I would counsel is this—
Refuse, though his hair curls, and promptly this say:
I’m getting, sir, too big to kiss.
Oh, no, no, no, no, sir! Allow me to pass;Oh, no, sir, ’tis more than I dare:That game’s out of fashion (I’m sorry, alas!)You needn’t look cross as a bear.Yet still I’ve an ember of pity right here,I’ll throw you just one kiss like this,But, sir, you’ll remember, now don’t come so near—That really I’m too big to kiss.—George M. Vickers.
Oh, no, no, no, no, sir! Allow me to pass;
Oh, no, sir, ’tis more than I dare:
That game’s out of fashion (I’m sorry, alas!)
You needn’t look cross as a bear.
Yet still I’ve an ember of pity right here,
I’ll throw you just one kiss like this,
But, sir, you’ll remember, now don’t come so near—
That really I’m too big to kiss.
—George M. Vickers.