Miss Meadows Poem by Robert Rorabeck

If I can knock the dust of that flint rock,
I’ll be the man who gets the pick of
The girls:
Hey-ho surely, surely now,
So says Miss Meadows;
And if I can kick my legs up behind my ears;
And lick the same spot,
While I’ll be the man who gets his
Flirtation’s will, surely
Down at Miss Meadow’s:
Hey-ho surely, surely now,
So says Miss Meadows:
And If I can carry my house atop my back
In and out of the cerulean pools; and it ain’t
No shack, nor no simple rickshaw,
While I’ll be the man who dandles in her
Auburn curls:
Hey-ho surely, surely now,
So says Miss Meadows;
And speaking of cars, why if mine’s a real beauty
So red and so sleek to steal the eyes of
Some beauty,
While I’ll be the man, won’t I, surely
So says Miss Meadows:
Hey-ho surely, sure now: who steals what he
Feels and houses with pearls,
Or at least with a girl whose beauty he desires,
And so hangs her with the stars in the sky
With fine chicken-wire:
Hey-ho surely, surely now,
So sings Miss Meadows