In that dim, dark antiquity, when shawls were worn by girls
Who tied long worsted " nubias " around their combs and curls, —
A century ago, it seems, when I was still quite young, —
When blue glass was the freshest fad, and Captain Jinks was sung, —
Each school-day morn a tow-head lad would stroll up through the alley,
And wish that he had spunk enough to walk to school with Sally.
The High School was in Butler's Block, and down the Third Street hill
Past Number Two she used to walk, and reached Nevada Mill.
Then Jim or Sam or Charlie, or some other of our set.
(Their names are read in marble now, but Sallie can't forget),
Would take her books politely and escort her past the alley.
How very hot that lad would grow! He might have walked with Sally!
I knew a lot of nice girls then, like Lib and Sue and Molly;
(Are all your Maes or Edythes now, or Carolyns, as jolly?)
I never could quite understand why this poor, bashful lad
Had fixed his young affections on this maiden; but he had.
Others as nice and quite as fair demurely passed the alley;
But, somehow, to his heart no one was quite the same as Sally.
When Sally said her Algebra, 'twas music to his ears;
He has loved those. " unknown quantities " for eight and thirty years.
When she missed in " Shells and Corals, " how he hated Mr. Witter;
For Sally cried that afternoon, and O, but life was bitter!
And always when the recess came, and the boys played in the alley,
He sat and feigned to read — he did — but really looked at Sally.
Then when at twelve o'clock we heard the welcome Scott House bell,
How in the desk our books and slates were tumbled all pell-mell!
While up the hill and down the street the hungry urchins tore,
Or rode in triumph dinner-wards with kindly Deacon Moore,
Along the dusty Avenue this tow-head lad would dally
Until the slower girls came out, — and he'd walk home with Sally.
O, Sally is a lady now and seldom thinks of me!
My hair is white as silver, and the towhead, where is he?
I wonder if she ever dreams of that shy, awkward beau
Who walked with her up Third Street hill so many years ago.
I remember how she boxed my ears for whooping from the alley!
No! I'm her brother ! 'T wasn't me that was so sweet on Sally!
Who tied long worsted " nubias " around their combs and curls, —
A century ago, it seems, when I was still quite young, —
When blue glass was the freshest fad, and Captain Jinks was sung, —
Each school-day morn a tow-head lad would stroll up through the alley,
And wish that he had spunk enough to walk to school with Sally.
The High School was in Butler's Block, and down the Third Street hill
Past Number Two she used to walk, and reached Nevada Mill.
Then Jim or Sam or Charlie, or some other of our set.
(Their names are read in marble now, but Sallie can't forget),
Would take her books politely and escort her past the alley.
How very hot that lad would grow! He might have walked with Sally!
I knew a lot of nice girls then, like Lib and Sue and Molly;
(Are all your Maes or Edythes now, or Carolyns, as jolly?)
I never could quite understand why this poor, bashful lad
Had fixed his young affections on this maiden; but he had.
Others as nice and quite as fair demurely passed the alley;
But, somehow, to his heart no one was quite the same as Sally.
When Sally said her Algebra, 'twas music to his ears;
He has loved those. " unknown quantities " for eight and thirty years.
When she missed in " Shells and Corals, " how he hated Mr. Witter;
For Sally cried that afternoon, and O, but life was bitter!
And always when the recess came, and the boys played in the alley,
He sat and feigned to read — he did — but really looked at Sally.
Then when at twelve o'clock we heard the welcome Scott House bell,
How in the desk our books and slates were tumbled all pell-mell!
While up the hill and down the street the hungry urchins tore,
Or rode in triumph dinner-wards with kindly Deacon Moore,
Along the dusty Avenue this tow-head lad would dally
Until the slower girls came out, — and he'd walk home with Sally.
O, Sally is a lady now and seldom thinks of me!
My hair is white as silver, and the towhead, where is he?
I wonder if she ever dreams of that shy, awkward beau
Who walked with her up Third Street hill so many years ago.
I remember how she boxed my ears for whooping from the alley!
No! I'm her brother ! 'T wasn't me that was so sweet on Sally!