| |
| AND 1 there they sat, a-popping corn, | |
| John Styles and Susan Cutter— | |
| John Styles as fat as any ox, | |
| And Susan fat as butter. | |
| |
| And there they sat and shelled the corn, | 5 |
| And raked and stirred the fire, | |
| And talked of different kinds of corn, | |
| And hitched their chairs up nigher. | |
| |
| Then Susan she the popper shook, | |
| Then John he shook the popper, | 10 |
| Till both their faces grew as red | |
| As saucepans made of copper. | |
| |
| And then they shelled, and popped, and ate, | |
| All kinds of fun a-poking, | |
| While he haw-hawed at her remarks, | 15 |
| And she laughed at his joking. | |
| |
| And still they popped, and still they ate— | |
| John’s mouth was like a hopper— | |
| And stirred the fire, and sprinkled salt, | |
| And shook and shook the popper. | 20 |
| |
| The clock struck nine—the clock struck ten, | |
| And still the corn kept popping; | |
| It struck eleven, and then struck twelve, | |
| And still no signs of stopping. | |
| |
| And John he ate, and Sue she thought— | 25 |
| The corn did pop and patter— | |
| Till John cried out, “The corn ’s a-fire! | |
| Why, Susan, what ’s the matter?” | |
| |
| Said she, “John Styles, it ’s one o’clock; | |
| You ’ll die of indigestion; | 30 |
| I ’m sick of all this popping corn— | |
| Why don’t you pop the question?” | |
