THE PROPOSAL.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume IX, Issue 31, 30 July 1892, Page 763

THE PROPOSAL.

I. It's purty hard fer fellers when they gets to twenty one, Fer then the time’s arrived fer solid work to be begun, A boy can be right smart ’n’ slick when he is in his teens, But when he comes of age he’s got to show ’at he knows beans ; ’Nd of the problems as is sot before him in this life, The hardest to solute, I think, is who's to be his wife. 11. It’s that what's bothered me of late it’s bothered me right bad— Which one of six young ladies is the best that can be had! There’s Sarah Biggs ; she’s mighty smart at bakin', so they say, But ain’t a bit o' use when't comes to tossin’ up the hay. N’ Riah Johnson, she can't cook not for a little bit, But in the fields she alters shows a mighty lot o’ grit. 111. N’ Polly Hankey's purty tine ; but I’m afeared o’ her : She's kind o' flirty ; that’s a trait in wives I don’t prefer, ’N’ Marthy Pollock knows too much—she’s been to boardiu - school—’N’ thinks ouless a man can read ’thout stumblin’, he’s a fool, ’N’ Sadie Peter s mighty sweet to look at, ’ml all that. But there is them as says when Sade gets mad she’s like a cat. IV. N’ Susan Jones is rather nice ; but say, she's kind o’ queer. She’s of the kind to squeeze yer hand, ’n’ wink, ’n’ call you ‘ dear.’ ’N’ somehow when I meet Sue Jones, I kind o’ want to run For fear 'at she'll propose to me—'nd I don't call that fun — Although I’m fond o' Susan—that’s a fact I can't deny ; But ’twouldn’t hurt her, not a jor, to be a bit more shy. V. Them six I can't decide about, ’n’ seein’ s that’s the case, I’ve called on you, Miss Perkins—or, if you'll allow me, Grace— To say ’at what upon the hull I think's the style fer me ’S a kind o' quiet, modest girl sech as you often see — The kind ’at ain't afeared o’ work, knows how to cook ’n’ sew, Don't sing or play planners, nd ain't allers on the go. VI. Ain't stuck on literary work, is allers clean ’n’ neat; Don't know so awful much she knocks a feller off his feet ; ’N’ though she's plain, has looks enough, u' looks she’s like to keep, ’N’ with her talkin' isn’t like to kill a feller’s sleep — That there's the kind, Miss Perkins, as I think ’ll do forme ; ’N’ do you know, 1 sorter think—l sorter think you’re she !