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 | The Collected Poetry of Paul Laurence Dunbar : |  |
My Best Girl
Her hair is a brilliant red, and her voice like a bumblebee's hum,And this lovely young damsel is fed on the choicest of sweet chewing gum.
I have met her at church and at fair. How I love her no person can tell,
But the terrible hue of her hair has made me feel weary—ah, well,
But how can I justly complain? 'Tis the World with its sorrow and care,
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I called on her yesterday eve, and sweet were the words that I said.
I attempted when taking my leave to light my cigar on her head.
Poor damsel she stared and turned red till she looked like a full-blown rose
But she murmured, “Don't worry, dear Ned. My hair corresponds to your nose.”
Then I swore in a still, silent way. That's the way those religious folk swear,
For my nose, I am sorry to say, was as brilliantly red as her hair.
As I thought of her hair and my nose, and then of my nose and her hair,
A stronger emotion arose, and I knelt on my knees then and there.
Dear hearers, I didn't propose, and to say what I said is a sin,
For I almost immediately rose. Good heavens! I'd knelt on a pin!
| The Collected Poetry of Paul Laurence Dunbar : | |