Mar-ga-ret

MAR-GA-RET. Mar-ga-ret is my gur-il's name, But I don't call her that Maggie's what I call her most, When her little hand I pat; Honey-sweet she likes the best, When only us is there Sweeter'n honey from the bee Is Maggie, I declare!

We had our pitchters taken, too, An' Maggie said to me, "You stan' up straight and look as brave A husban' as kin be!" She's my queen, an' I'm her king, An' Maggie said she know'd If I had a beard I would be The bestest king that grow'd. They hain't no girl as sweet as her, 'Cause Maggie's good as gold, Fer when I broke Ma's biggest clock Dear Maggie never told; They hain't no eyes as deep as her'n, An' Maggie's are jest as blue As robin's eggs, er buff'lo flow'rs, Er blue-bells filled with dew! Now, Maggie says when we're grow'd up She'll marry me some day, O, I love Maggie more an' more, In jest the sweetest way! An' then when she's my wife fer sure, I hope I'll not forget To call her honey-sweet sometimes, Instid of Mar-ga-ret! Harrison R. Merrill PRESTON, IDAHO