All up the street at a stately pace The maiden passed with her April-face, And the roses I‘ d paid for, on her breast Were white as the eggs in a partridge-nest,
While behind her — driver upon his stool — Tinkled the bell of the street-car mule. “Going to walk up the street?” I said; She graciously bowed her beautiful head.
“Then I‘ ll walk, too;‘ t is a lovely day.” — Thus I opened the ball in my usual way. “Do you see the car anywhere?” inquired The April-face, “I‘ m a trifle tired.”
I urged a walk;‘ twas a useless suit! She wildly waved her parachute; The stub-tailed mule stopped quick enow; I handed her in with a stately bow;
And the bell rang out with a jangled quirk, As the stub-tailed mule went off with a jerk. Three men as she entered solemnly rose, And quietly trampled their neighbors’ toes;
A dudish masher left his place, And edged near the girl with the April-face, Who sat on the side you‘ d call “the lee,” ( With the same sweet smile she‘ d sat on me ).
The day it was lovely; mild the air; The sky, like the maiden's face, was fair; The car was full, and a trifle stale ( Attached to the mule with the stubbly tail );
Yet the maiden preferred the seat she hired, To the stroll with me; for I made her tired. And now when the maiden walks the street With another's flowers, and smile so sweet,
I wave to the driver upon his stool, And stop the stub-tailed street-car mule, While I purchase a seat with half my pelf; For it makes me a trifle tired myself.
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