Classic Poem

She's bin out here a-teachin' fer this winter now a-past,
An' I hear that she's a-tellin' that this winter is her last —
That she's goin' to quit the schoolroom an' goin' home to stay —
An' somehow I'm jes' hatin' fer to see her go away.

For us fellers think that schoolmarm is an angel; yes we do,
A little blue-eyed angel, yet a woman thro' an' thro';
An' she treats us all so kindly, jes' th' same most ev'ry day,
An' somehow I'm jes' hatin' fer to see her go away.

She hain't never give me reasons fer to think I'd have a show
To win her, but I'm honest when I say I like her so,
That I dread her time fer goin', count ev'ry passin' day,
'Cause I'm hatin', jes' a hatin', fer to see her go away.

Well, her term is 'bout completed an', say, I don't think I
Have got th' nerve to greet her an' to say a last good-by;
Seems so tough! Oh, well, I'm feelin' — call it heartsick, if you may —
An' I'm hatin', jes' a-hatin', fer to see her go away.

Later.

Oh, say, I'm 'bout as happy as a feller wants to be;
Went to see her, an', by hookie, she jes' upped an' cried — you see
Right there I had to say it, what so long I've feered to say,
An' now we've went an' fixed it so she'll never go away.