“POET, MAY I PAIL YOUR COW?”
She:
“Poet—pastoral poet—
Poet, don’t you know it?
Poet, please, sir, may I now?
Poet, I would dearly love to pail your cow!”
He:
“Maid of Denver, then you may;
I will bait her with some hay.
So, boss—so, there, now!
So,—so—you blamed old cow!
“Just watch her kick-up, like a steer;
Race away in mad career;
But I can catch her; oh, yes, dear—
Snare her with my lariat
Snub her, stretch her out,
Tie her horns and tie her feet,
She may bellow, she may fret.
We shall pail her. Conquer her? Oh dear, yes, you bet!
“Maid of Denver, try her now;
She is humbled—s’drat that cow!
Did she cavort like a steer?
Bellow loudly in your ear?
She did; yes, she did. But shall we pail her?”
She:
“Well, no, nay—not just now, poet, dear.”