We don't do affection much,

Nell and I are real good friends,

Call there often, sit and chat,

Take her 'round, and there it ends.

Spooning! Well, I tried it once—

Acted like an awful calf—

Said I really loved her. Gad!

You should just have heard her laugh.

Why, she ran me for a month,

Teased me till she made me wince;

'Mustn't flirt with her,' she said,

So I haven't tried it since.

'Twould be pleasant to be loved

Like you read about in books—

Mingling souls, and tender eyes—

Love, and that, in all their looks;

Thoughts of you, and no one else;

Voice that has a tender ring,

Sacrifices made, and—well—

You know—all that sort of thing.

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