 | Songs and Lyrics |  |
134
The Wind-Bag.
He praised my eyes, so bright and black;
He praised my locks, so crisp and brown;
My silence sweet—nor was he slack
My smile to praise—to praise my frown.
He praised my locks, so crisp and brown;
My silence sweet—nor was he slack
My smile to praise—to praise my frown.
From top to toe, me o'er and o'er,
He praised till—tut! I laugh'd outright;
Against the wind-bag clash'd the door,
And thro' the key-hole squealed “Good-Night!”
He praised till—tut! I laugh'd outright;
Against the wind-bag clash'd the door,
And thro' the key-hole squealed “Good-Night!”
| Songs and Lyrics | |