I heard the old man scoldin’ yesterday
Because your spellin’ did n't suit him quite;
He said you'd better go to school at night,
And you was rattled when he turned away;
You had to tear the letter up and write
It all again, and when nobody seen
I went and dented in his hat for spite:
That's what he got for treatin’ you so mean.
I wish that you typewrote for me and we
Was far off on an island, all alone;
I'd fix a place up under some nice tree,
And every time your fingers struck a key
I'd grab your hands and hold them in my own,
And any way you spelt would do for me.