"
XIII
I don't think Mother chalked me out to win,
To be the steady of her darling child.
She thinks I am a kick-up, something wild,
And no sweet girl should wear my college pin.
She thinks I'm some too piffly with my chin
And my soft prattle simply gets her riled.
I've lost my keys with her, to put it mild,
I don't belong, because I am not In.
Say how, with such an iceberg on the track,
Can I conduct my car to married bliss?
I hoped that I could whistle Pansy back,
And lo! I got a frostbite off of this!
I'd wrastle Death for Her, I'd fight her Pa, -
But stab me if I'll syrup to her Ma!
XIV
E'en as I stood with cobwebs in my tower
A candy vision came and flagged the boat -
Give forty rah-rah-rahs! O joy, O gloat!
'Twas Pansy like a fairy in a bower
Warbling, "Hi, stop the car!" With all my power
I yanked the bell. My brain was all afloat,
My heart cut pin-wheels, stole a base at throat,
Sang "Tammany" - and knighthood was in flower.
I helped her on. My shoes were full of feet.
I says, "How's Ma?" She answers, "Going some."
I doffed my lid and ventured to repeat
The breeze had put the weather on the bum.
Then she replied, not seeming sore or vexed,
"It may not be so punk on Sunday next."
XV
The Sinful Rich go whizzing by all day
In wealthy wagons, looking pert and swell;
They get the ride, the Commons get the smell
And full of thought and microbes wend their way.
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