Womanly Qualms

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When I go rowing on the lake,
 I long to be a man;
I’ll give my Sunday frock to have
 A callous heart like Dan.

I love the ripple of the waves
 When gliding o’er the deep,
But when I see the cruel ours,
 I close my eyes and weep;

For there are cat-fish in our lake,
 And I am filled with dread,
Lest Don should strike a pussy-fish
 Upon its tender head.

How would you like it if, some day
 An air-ship passing by,
Should flap its cruel, thoughtless oars
 And knock you in the eye?

My life would be one long regret
 If, for my pleasure vain,
I caused a harmless little fish
 An hour of needless pain.

And if Dan’s heavy oars should cause
 One little fish to die,
I’d never, never dare to look
 Smoked herring in the eye!

© Ellis Parker Butler