MY PRETTY TYPEWRITER.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume V, Issue 48, 29 November 1890, Page 20

MY PRETTY TYPEWRITER.

Mr office of late has seemed brighter, More cheerful by far than it was ; It may be the pretty typewriter Who sits near my desk is the cause.

A radiant, dashing young creature ; In typewriting circles a belle ; Although I’m unable to teach her To punctuate rightly, or spell.

Her mouth like a half-opened rose is, Her hair rivals gold in its hue, Tip-tilted her dear little nose is, Her eyes are a heavenly blue.

I really should feel lost without her ; For while there’s no cause for alarm, There’s something attractive about her, A thrilling, intangible charm.

Her typewritten letters are fearful, With errors they thickly are strewed ; I scold her, and she becomes tearful, And thinks I am awfully rude.

She breaks into silvery laughter As soon as forgiven, and I’ve Rewritten no end of them after She’s gone —she leaves promptly at five.

My’ wife, who is somewhat suspicious, Dropped into my office to-day, And found—well, I thought it judicious To send my typewriter away.

I really shall feel lost without her, For while I intended no harm, My wife noticed something about her That filled her dear soul with alarm.