An' he laughs an' winks at Pike
In a way that I don't like.
"Widders," grins young Dusty Dick,
"Likes a bloke whose hands is quick.
Now poor Ben can take the sack."
But I frowns, an' turns my back.
It was Spring, the fickle Spring; an' a most amazin' thing
Came upon me sudden-like an' set me marvelling.
For no longer was I lookin' for a wife to do my cookin'.
But for somethin' sweet an' tender of the kind that kiss an' cling.
Oh, for such a one I'd battle, an' I'd win by hook or crook;
But it did seem sort of foolish to go fightin' for a cook.
Standin' on the sawdust heap
I feel mean an' rather cheap.
Widows? Let the widow go!
What we fought for I don't know.
Murray offers me his hand:
"Jim, you've won; so, understand,
I don't mean to block your road …"
But I answer, "That be blowed!"
"Why, it's Spring, man. Spring!" (An' I gave his fist a wring)
"If you reckoned me your rival, give up thinkin' such a thing.
I just fought for fun an' frolic, so don't you get melancholic;
An', if you have notions yonder, why, buck up an' buy the ring!
