AT THE SIGN OF THE LYRE

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1686, 22 June 1904, Page 16

AT THE SIGN OF THE LYRE

THEY ARE SIXTY-SEVEN. I met a little Mormon girl; She was just eighteen, she said, Her hair was dressed with one big curl That dangled from hex' bead. She had a simple way, and bland; Her speech was soft and cool.. And in her honest, -widespread band She bore a milking stool. “How many children, little maid, Are in your family?” “How many ? Sixty-seven," she said, And shyly looked at me. Her hazel eyes to mine she raised, And then she cast them down, “I did not ask," 1 said, amazed, "The census of your town.” “How many children 'round your door Disport in childish glee?” “Just sixty-seven," she said, once more, And smiled again at me. “Forty of us at Provo dwell; At Ogden there are nine; The good ship Jane, they sail her well— Twelve brothel’s dear of mine." “I see at last. Your meaning's clear,” Said I, with laughter mex’ry; “Is it an orphanage, my dear. Or a female seminary?" “My father kind is drawing near,"; The little maid replied ; “He's been to roam; he's bringing bom© Another brand new bride. “With father, dear, we dwell at peace; Otxr mothers axe eleven; 'Roxxnd every door there's room for more, And we are sixty-seven." And then I left in dumb dismay The maid with eyes like heaven; But as I left I heard her say, “And I’m the oldest, by the way., Of all the sixty-seven/’ —From The Council Bluffs (Iowa) “Nonpareil." S