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From Tom to Ned
DEAR Ned, no doubt you ’ll be surprised | |
| When you receive and read this letter. | |
| I ’ve railed against the marriage state; | |
| But then, you see, I knew no better. | |
| I ’ve met a lovely girl out here; | 5 |
| Her manner is—well—very winning: | |
| We ’re soon to be—well, Ned, my dear, | |
| I ’ll tell you all, from the beginning. | |
| |
| I went to ask her out to ride | |
| Last Wednesday—it was perfect weather. | 10 |
| She said she couldn’t possibly: | |
| The servants had gone off together | |
| (Hibernians always rush away, | |
| At cousins’ funerals to be looking); | |
| Pies must be made, and she must stay, | 15 |
| She said, to do that branch of cooking. | |
| |
| “O, let me help you,” then I cried: | |
| “I ’ll be a cooker too—how jolly!” | |
| She laughed, and answered, with a smile, | |
| “All right! but you ’ll repent your folly; | 20 |
| For I shall be a tyrant, sir, | |
| And good hard work you ’ll have to grapple; | |
| So sit down there, and don’t you stir, | |
| But take this knife, and pare that apple.” | |
| |
| She rolled her sleeve above her arm,— | 25 |
| That lovely arm, so plump and rounded; | |
| Outside, the morning sun shone bright; | |
| Inside, the dough she deftly pounded. | |
| Her little fingers sprinkled flour, | |
| And rolled the pie-crust up in masses: | 30 |
| I passed the most delightful hour | |
| Mid butter, sugar, and molasses. | |
| |
| With deep reflection her sweet eyes | |
| Gazed on each pot and pan and kettle. | |
| She sliced the apples, filled her pies, | 35 |
| And then the upper crust did settle. | |
| Her rippling waves of golden hair | |
| In one great coil were tightly twisted; | |
| But locks would break it, here and there, | |
| And curl about where’er they listed. | 40 |
| |
| And then her sleeve came down, and I | |
| Fastened it up—her hands were doughy; | |
| O, it did take the longest time!— | |
| Her arm, Ned, was so round and snowy. | |
| She blushed, and trembled, and looked shy; | 45 |
| Somehow that made me all the bolder; | |
| Her arch lips looked so red that I— | |
| Well—found her head upon my shoulder. | |
| |
| We ’re to be married, Ned, next month; | |
| Come and attend the wedding revels. | 50 |
| I really think that bachelors | |
| Are the most miserable devils! | |
| You ’d better go for some girl’s hand; | |
| And if you are uncertain whether | |
| You dare to make a due demand, | 55 |
| Why, just try cooking pies together. | |
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