Love Sonnets of an Office Boy Part 3

XXV.

I don't care if she's twic't as old as me, For I've been figgerin' and figgers shows That I'll grow older faster than she grows, And when I'm twenty-one or so, why, she Won't be near twic't as old as me no more, And then almost the first thing that she knows I might ketch up to her some day, I s'pose, And both of us be gladder than before.

When I get whiskers I can let them grow All up and down my cheeks and on my chin, And in a little while they might begin To make me look as old as her, and so She'd snuggle up to me and call me "paw."

And then I'd call her "pet" instead of "maw."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

XXVI.

One morning when the boss was out somewhere And when the clerk was at the bank and me And her was here alone together, she Let out a screech and jumped up in the air And grabbed her skirts and yelled: "A mouse!" And there One come a-runnin' right at her, and, gee!

They wasn't a blame thing that I could see To whack it with, except an office chair.

I grabbed one up and made a smash and hit Her desk and broke a leg clear off somehow, And when the boss came back and looked at it He said that I would have to pay, and now, When ma finds out I know just what I'll git-- Next pay-day there will be an awful row.

XXVII.

It's over now; the blow has fell at last; It seems as though the sun can't shine no more, And nothing looks the way it did before; The glad thoughts that I used to think are past.

Her desk's shut up to-day, the lid's locked fast; The keys where she typewrote are still; her chair Looks sad and lonesome standin' empty there-- I'd like to let the tears come if I dast.

This morning when the boss come in he found A letter that he'd got from her, and so He read it over twice and turned around And said: "The little fool's got married!" Oh, It seemed as if I'd sink down through the ground, And never peep no more--I didn't, though.

XXVIII.

The chap's a beau we didn't know she had He come from out of town somewhere, they say; I hope he's awful homely, and that they Will fight like cats and dogs and both be sad.

But still there's one thing makes me kind of glad: The long-legged clerk must stay and work away, And, though he keeps pretendin' to be gay, It's plain enough to see he's feelin' bad.

I wish when I'm a man and rich and proud, She'd see me, tall and handsome then, and be Blamed sorry that she didn't wait for me, And that she'd hear the people cheerin' loud When I went past, and down there in the crowd I'd see her lookin' at me sorrowf'ly.