  OH, the days were ever shiny When I ran to meet my love; When I press’d her hand so tiny Through her tiny tiny glove. Was I very deeply smitten? Oh, I loved like anything! But my love she is a kitten, And my heart’s a ball of string. She was pleasingly poetic, And she loved my little rhymes; For our tastes were sympathetic, In the old and happy times. Oh, the ballads I have written, And have taught my love to sing! But my love she is a kitten, Would she listen to my offer, On my knees I would impart A sincere and ready proffer Of my hand and of my heart. And below her dainty mitten I would fix a wedding ring— But my love she is a kitten, And my heart’s a ball of string. Take a warning, happy lover, From the moral that I show; Or too late you may discover What I learn’d a month ago. We are scratch’d or we are bitten By the pets to whom we cling. Oh, my love she is a kitten, And my heart’s a ball of string. Henry S. Leigh. |
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