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When she swims in the dance or wherever she goes She's crowded by witlings, plain-fellows & beaux Who throng at her elbow & tread on her toes. |
If a pin or a hankerchief happen to fall To seize on the prise fills with uproar the hall: |
Such pulling and hawling & shoving & pushing As rivals the racket of 'key & the cushion;' |
And happy - thrice happy! too happy! the swain Who can replace the pin or bandana again. |
Tho the fellows surround & so humbly adore her |
The girls on the contrary cannot endure her; Her beauty their beauty forever disgraces And her sweeter face still eclipses their faces. For no lov'ly girl can a lov'ly girl bear And fair-ones are ever at war with the fair. |
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Email: Mary S. Van Deusen Copyright © 2014, InterMedia Enterprises |