I hain't no great detective, like yer read about,—the kind
That solves a whole blame murder case by footmarks left behind;
But then, again, on t'other hand, my eyes hain't shut so tight
But I can add up two and two and get the answer right;
So, when prayer-meet'ns, Friday nights, got keepin' awful late,
And, fer an hour or so, I'd hear low voices at the gate—
And when that gate got saggin' down 'bout ha'f a foot er so—
I says ter mother: "Ma," says I, "Matildy's got a beau."

We ought ter have expected it—she's 'most eighteen, yer see;
But, sakes alive! she's always seemed a baby, like, ter me;
And so, a feller after her! why, that jest did beat all!
But, t' other Sunday, bless yer soul, he come around ter call;
And when I see him all dressed up as dandy as yer please,
But sort er lookin' 's if he had the shivers in his knees,
I kind er realized it then, yer might say, like a blow—
Thinks I, "No use! I'm gittin' old; Matildy's got a beau."

Just twenty-four short years gone by—it do'n't seem five, I vow!—
I fust called on Matildy—that's Matildy's mother now;
I recollect I spent an hour a-tyin' my cravat,
And I'd sent up ter town and bought a bang-up shiny hat.
And, my! oh, my! them new plaid pants; well, wa'n't I something grand
When I come up the walk with some fresh posies in my hand?
And didn't I feel like a fool when her young brother, Joe,
Sang out: "Gee crickets! Looky here! Here comes Matildy's beau!"

And now another feller comes up my walk, jest as gay,
And here's Matildy blushin' red in jest her mother's way;
And when she says she's got ter go an errand to the store,
We know he 's waitin' 'round the bend, jest as I've done afore;
Or, when they're in the parlor and I knock, why, bless yer heart!
I have ter smile ter hear how quick their chairs are shoved apart.
They think us old folks don't "catch on" a single mite; but, sho!
I reckon they fergit I was Matildy's mother's beau.