The Ballade of the Northern Girl
Her manner was perfectly sweet
And golden the hue of her hair;
She was pretty, of course, and petite;
And when you would ask of her: “‘Where
Are you from?” she would answer: “Eau Claire,
Wisconsin. What? ‘Baltimore’? Nixie!
What made you think I was from there?” . . . .
She always applauded at “Dixie.”
And golden the hue of her hair;
She was pretty, of course, and petite;
And when you would ask of her: “‘Where
Are you from?” she would answer: “Eau Claire,
Wisconsin. What? ‘Baltimore’? Nixie!
What made you think I was from there?” . . . .
She always applauded at “Dixie.”
She was fair from her head to her feet;
She was—oh, description’s despair,
As she rose from her orchestra seat
And pounded her gloves to a tear—
This dear little maid from Bellaire,
Ohio. Ingenuous, tricksy.
“New Orleans? No! . . . How you stare!” . . . .
She always applauded at “Dixie.”
She was—oh, description’s despair,
As she rose from her orchestra seat
And pounded her gloves to a tear—
This dear little maid from Bellaire,
Ohio. Ingenuous, tricksy.
“New Orleans? No! . . . How you stare!” . . . .
She always applauded at “Dixie.”
She is found in the shop and the street;
She sits in a restaurant chair;
She may be bourgeois or élite;
But she thrills to the Southerner’s air.
From Portsmouth, N. H., and Big Bear,
N. Y., this ubiquitous pixie.
Though blue was her grandfather’s wear,
She always applauded at ‘‘Dixie.”
She sits in a restaurant chair;
She may be bourgeois or élite;
But she thrills to the Southerner’s air.
From Portsmouth, N. H., and Big Bear,
N. Y., this ubiquitous pixie.
Though blue was her grandfather’s wear,
She always applauded at ‘‘Dixie.”
L’Envoi
O Epitaph-makers, prepare
This sentence, and chisel it quick, see:
HERE LIETH MISS LEGION, THE FAIR:
SHE ALWAYS APPLAUDED AT “DIXIE.”
O Epitaph-makers, prepare
This sentence, and chisel it quick, see:
HERE LIETH MISS LEGION, THE FAIR:
SHE ALWAYS APPLAUDED AT “DIXIE.”