Classic Poem

Well I love to sing thy beauty,
Jennie B,
And 'tis but a pleasant duty,
Jennie B,
To tell how no wind nor weather
Ever strained the subtle tether
That has bound us two together—
Jennie B.

Ah, what pleasant miles we've traveled,
Jennie B!
And what winding roads unraveled,
Jennie B,
When the merry sun was beaming,
Or the gentle moon was dreaming,
Or the jagged lightning gleaming—
Jennie B!

How one little word can move thee,
Jennie B,
With a speed that doth behoove thee,
Jennie B!
When thy rivals show their faces
As a challenge to thy paces,
Then how passing are thy graces—
Jennie B.

For thy blood is of the bluest,
Jennie B,
And thy step is of the truest,
Jennie B.
To my ears there comes no greeting
Gladder than the rhythmic beating
Of thy nimble footsteps fleeting—
Jennie B.

Though thy ears are ever ready,
Jennie B,
Yet thy tongue is ever steady,
Jennie B.
Whatsoever cruel mutter
My tongue wag in, that may cut her,
Not an unkind word doth utter
Jennie B.

And her breath is like the clover—
Jennie B,—
When her neck is arching over—
Jennie B.
As her hair falls on my shoulder,
With my arms I there enfold her,
And I hug her as I hold her—
Jennie B!

Then thy soft, thin nostrils playing—
Jennie B.
And thy brown eyes volumes saying—
Jennie B;
And thy dainty ankle peeping,
Would compel a monk to keeping
Compliments upon you heaping—
Jennie B!

But blue eyes are jealous looking,
Jennie B,
And my language are not brooking,
Jennie B;
Don't you think that she is silly
Thus to judge of us so illy,
When you're only my bay filly,