Sis' Porcupine, wid 'er bristles all set
In a pompado' style, is waitin' yet,
An' she can't understan', whilst she puckers 'er mug,
De sca'city o' kisses an' de absent hug.
But she ain't by 'er lonesome self in dat—
No, she ain't by 'erself in dat.