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The Disturber

Oh, what shall I do? I am wholly upset;

I am sure I 'll be jailed for a lunatic yet.

I 'll be out of a job--it's the thing to expect

When I 'm letting my duty go by with neglect.

You may judge the extent and degree of my plight

When I 'm thinking all day and a-dreaming all night,

And a-trying my hand at a rhyme on the sly,

All on account of a sparkling eye.

There are those who say men should be strong, well-a-day!

But what constitutes strength in a man? Who shall say?

I am strong as the most when it comes to the arm.

I have aye held my own on the playground or farm.

And when I 've been tempted, I haven't been weak;

But now--why, I tremble to hear a maid speak.

I used to be bold, but now I 've grown shy,

And all on account of a sparkling eye.

There once was a time when my heart was devout,

But now my religion is open to doubt.

When parson is earnestly preaching of grace,

My fancy is busy with drawing a face,

Thro' the back of a bonnet most piously plain;

'I draw it, redraw it, and draw it again.'

While the songs and the sermon unheeded go by,--

All on account of a sparkling eye.

Oh, dear little conjurer, give o'er your wiles,

It is easy for you, you're all blushes and smiles:

But, love of my heart, I am sorely perplexed;

I am smiling one minute and sighing the next;

And if it goes on, I 'll drop hackle and flail,

And go to the parson and tell him my tale.

I warrant he 'll find me a cure for the sigh

That you 're aye bringing forth with the glance of your eye.