George Pope Morris (1802-1864 / USA)
Will Nobody Marry Me?
Heigh-ho! for a husband!--Heigh-ho!
There's danger in longer delay!
Shall I never again have a beau?
Will nobody marry me, pray!
I begin to feel strange, I declare!
With beauty my prospects will fade--
I'd give myself up to despair
If I thought I should die an old maid!
I once cut the beaux in a huff--
I thought it a sin and a shame
That no one had spirit enough
To ask me to alter my name.
So I turned up my nose at the short,
And cast down my eyes at the tall;
But then I just did it in sport--
And now I've no lover at all!
These men are the plague of my life:
'Tis hard from so many to choose!
Should any one wish for a wife,
Could I have the heart to refuse?
I don't know--for none have proposed--
Oh, dear me!--I'm frightened, I vow!
Good gracious! who ever supposed
That I should be single till now?
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