I really must confess, my dear,
I cannot help but love you,
For of all girls I ever knew,
There's none I place above you;
But then you know it's rather hard,
To dangle aimless at your skirt,
And watch your every movement so,
_For I am jealous, and you're a flirt_.
There's half a score of fellows round,
You smile at every one,
And as I think to pride myself for basking in the sun
Of your sweet smiles, you laugh at me,
And treat me like a lump of dirt,
Until I wish that I were dead,
_For I am jealous, and you're a flirt_.
I'm sorry that I've ever known
Your loveliness entrancing,
Or ever saw your laughing eyes,
With girlish mischief dancing;
'Tis agony supreme and rare
To see your slender waist a-girt
With other fellows' arms, you see,
_For I am jealous, and you're a flirt_.
Now, girlie, if you'll promise me,
To never, never treat me mean,
I'll show you in a little while,
The best sweetheart you've ever seen;
You do not seem to know or care,
How often you've my feelings hurt,
While flying round with other boys,
_For I am jealous, and you're a flirt_.
THE MAIDEN'S DREAM.
The maid had been reading love-poetry, where the world lay bathed in
moon-light, fragrant with dew-wet roses and jasmine, harmonious with the
clear tinkle of mandolin and guitar.
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