Classic Poem

"Come right in. How are you, Fred?
Find a chair, and get a light."
"Well, old man, recovered yet
From the Mather's jam last night?"
"Didn't dance. The German's old."
"Didn't you? I had to lead--
Awful bore! Did you go home?"
"No. Sat out with Molly Meade.
Jolly little girl she is--
Said she didn't care to dance,
'D rather sit and talk to me--
Then she gave me such a glance!
So, when you had cleared the room,
And impounded all the chairs,
Having nowhere else, we two
Took possession of the stairs.
I was on the lower step,
Molly, on the next above,
Gave me her bouquet to hold,
Asked me to undo her glove.
Then, of course, I squeezed her hand,
Talked about my wasted life;
'Ah! if I could only win
Some true woman for my wife,
How I'd love her--work for her!
Hand in hand through life we'd walk--
No one ever cared for me--'
Takes a girl--that kind of talk.
Then, you know, I used my eyes--
She believed me, every word--
Said I 'mustn't talk so'--Jove!
Such a voice you never heard.
Gave me some symbolic flower,--
'Had a meaning, oh, so sweet,'--
Don't know where it is, I'm sure;
Must have dropped it in the street.
How I spooned!--And she--ha! ha!--
Well, I know it wasn't right--
But she pitied me so much
That I--kissed her--pass a light."