  CAN I forget that winter night In eighteen eighty-four, When Nellie, charming little sprite, Came tapping at the door? “Good evening, miss,” I blushing said, For in my heart I knew— And, knowing, hung my pretty head— She clasped my big red hand, and fell Adown upon her knees, And cried: “You know I love you well, So be my husband, please!” And then she swore she’d ever be A tender wife and true— Ah, what delight it was to me That Nellie came to woo! She’d lace my shoes and darn my hose And mend my shirts, she said; And grease my comely Roman nose Each night on going to bed; She’d build the fires and fetch the coal, And split the kindling, too— Love’s perjuries o’erwhelmed her soul When Nellie came to woo. And as I blushing, gave no check To her advances rash, She twined her arms about my neck, And toyed with my moustache; And then she pleaded for a kiss, While I—what could I do But coyly yield me to that bliss When Nellie came to woo? I am engaged, and proudly wear A gorgeous diamond ring, And I shall wed my lover fair I face my doom without a sigh— And so, forthsooth, would you, If you but loved as fond as I The Nellie who came to woo. Eugene Field. |
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