  THE news-stand lady’s got a steady beau; He comes each night at six o’clock or so, And when they leave he takes her by the arm, As though he thought she might get into harm, Or slip on something smooth, or stub her toe. Mike says he’d let his mother get along Without an arm to hang to that was strong, And never seem to think she might get hurt By bein’ bumped, and never fret at all If she would put her foot down in the dirt, And never be afraid that she would fall. I wonder why a fellow’s mother tries To make you think that every man that’s wise Steers clear of all the girls? I wonder why A fellow’s mother thinks they’re mean and sly And hardly fit to look you in the eyes? Ma thinks the operator here has planned To hook the first poor chap that she can land; And one night, when I got to tellin’ ma How sweet she was—I mean the operator— The more I tried to praise her up I saw The more it kind of seemed to make ma hate ’er. Ma says they’re all a schemin’ lot, who fix Themselves up nice to fool the Toms and Dicks And Harrys that don’t know enough to run: You’d think, to hear her talk, that all they done Was try to catch the boys by foxy tricks. I don’t see why ma runs them down that way; She used to be a girl herself, one day. Mike says that when a woman’s married, though, She never wants the rest that ain’t been took To ever stand a chance or have a show To ever get a nibble at the hook.
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