TO SEE HER PIPE AWRY.





Betty bouncer kept a stall

At the corner of a street,

And she had a smile for all.

Many were the friends she'd greet

With kindly nod on passing by,

Who, smiling, saw her pipe awry.



Poor old lass! she loved her pipe,

A constant friend it seemed to be;

As she sold her apples ripe,

With an apple on each knee,

How she'd make the smoke-wreaths fly,

As I've watched her pipe awry!



Seasons came and seasons went,

Only changing Betty's store;

Youngsters with her always spent

Their little all and wished they'd more:

Timidly with upturned eye

Staring at her pipe awry.



Bet was always at her post

Early morn or even late;

Ginger beer or chestnut roast,

Served she as she sat in state,

On two bushel-baskets high;

You should have seen her pipe awry!



Little care old Betty had,

She quietly jogged on her way;

Never did her face look sad.

Although she fumed the livelong day.

Guiltless seemed she of a sigh.

I never saw her pipe her eye!



C.F.





TO MY MEERSCHAUM. TO THE REV. MR. NEWTON. facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmail

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