A BOSOM FRIEND
I have a friend, a bosom friend,
'Tis many years since first I met her;
And while my path and hers don't blend,
I pray the kindly Fates to pet her.
'Tis many years since first I met her;
And while my path and hers don't blend,
I pray the kindly Fates to pet her.
She seeks the country, for her health,
"Runs over for a flying visit;"
The months pass by with noiseless tread,
It isn't any wonder, is it?
"Runs over for a flying visit;"
The months pass by with noiseless tread,
It isn't any wonder, is it?
There's one, at least, admires her style,
And one, at least, who thinks her pretty;
And at the distance of a mile
You'd know, she's lately from the City.
And one, at least, who thinks her pretty;
And at the distance of a mile
You'd know, she's lately from the City.
She calls me now, "her bosom friend,"
And then again, "her country cousin"
And airs, where'er our way we wend,
Her street-flirtations, by the dozen;
And then again, "her country cousin"
And airs, where'er our way we wend,
Her street-flirtations, by the dozen;
And, just for recreation's sake,
Her arts on some poor youth she'll practice,
Then o'er a frog, a spasm take;
(She's studying to be an actress.)
Her arts on some poor youth she'll practice,
Then o'er a frog, a spasm take;
(She's studying to be an actress.)
She's sad at times and sometimes gay,
Grows suddenly so sentimental.
She's perfect in a tragedy,
Her fame will yet be—continental.
Grows suddenly so sentimental.
She's perfect in a tragedy,
Her fame will yet be—continental.
My mode of dress, she doesn't commend,
She'll criticize my every feature;
But then, she is my bosom friend
And such a perfect little creature.
She'll criticize my every feature;
But then, she is my bosom friend
And such a perfect little creature.
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