Today I piped my future Ma-in-law.
She got aboard my Pullman and she scared
Three babies into fits the way she glared.
Rattle my baggage if I ever saw
A cracker-box to equal Mother's jaw,
A hardwood-finish face all nailed and squared.
She ossified the gripman when she stared—
And me? Well, I was overcame with awe.

But, being Pansy's Ma, 't was up to me
To hand her something pit-a-pat and swell,
And so I says, "Hello, Queen Cherokee!
What ho! for Pansy? hope she's feeling well."
And Ma responds, a trifle tart but game,
"She minds her bizness—hope you feel the same."