Page:Fewfigsfromthist00milluoft.pdf/28

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Sue's man's mind is like good jell—
All one color, and clear—
And Mig's no call to think at all
What'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 live
For 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 awake
When her good man sleeps sound,
And Mig and Sue and Joan and Prue
Will 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 do
But peep who's passing by,

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