OLD CLO'
I was just coming in from the garden,
Or about to go fishing for eels,
And, smiling, I asked you to pardon
My boots very low at the heels.
And I thought that you never would go,
As you stood in the doorway ajar,
For my heart would keep saying, "Old Clo',
You're found out at last as you are."
I was almost ashamed to acknowledge
That I was the quarry you sought,
For was I not bred in a college
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