Once a Week (magazine)/Series 1/Volume 2/I'll never forget that, ma'am!

I’LL NEVER FORGET THAT, MA’AM!

 

They say the men are faithless all,
And never will prove thrue, dear,
But of all in all, both great and small,
I’ll never forget you, dear.
For ’tis you that took the hoighth o’ care
To keep my memory thrue, dear;

My memory’s not very good—but I’ll never forget you, dear.
O, Kitty, dear, you need not fear
That I will e’er forget you,
I remember all your tindherness
From the hour that first I met you.

Twas at the fair your coaxin’ air
First made me be your suithor,
Where I spent my wealth to dhrink your health,
And toss’d the costly pewther;
A lock o’ your hair you promised me—
With joy my heart was big, ma’am!
But in the bottom o’ the quart
I found the fiddler’s wig, ma’am!
O, indeed, Miss Kit, the dickins a bit
You’ll wheedle me now with your chat, ma’am:
My memory’s not very good—
But I’ll never forget that, ma’am.

When you bid me step up to the house,
To spake to your mother and father,
And said, of all the boys you knew
’Twas myself that you would rather;
Won’t you take a sate,” says you, “my dear?”
With a most seducin’ air, ma’am:
But, oh! what a thunderin’ lump of a pin
You stuck in the sate of the chair, ma’am!
Indeed, Miss Kit, the dickins a bit
You’ll wheedle me now with your chat, ma’am,
My memory’s not very good—
But I’ll never forget that, ma’am.

I'll Never Forget That Dear.png

When I said ’twas you could raise the flame,
My love, you did but mock it,
For didn’t you put a coal o’ fire
Into my new coat pocket?
And when I blazed, ’twas you did about
With laughter, to be sure, ma’am,
O,” says you, “my dear, I’ll put you out,”
But, faix, ’twas out o’ the door, ma’am.
Indeed, Miss Kit, the dickins a bit
You’ll wheedle me now with your chat, ma’am.
My memory’s not very good—
But I’ll never forget that, ma’am.

Then didn’t I see black Darby Keogh
To the little back window pass, ma’am?
His ugly face he there did squeeze
Till he flatten’d his nose on the glass, ma’am.
Then the sash was riz—I heer’d it squeal—
There was nothing then between you:
Faith, I know how he flatten’d his nose after that!
Tho’ you thought there was nobody seen you.
O, indeed, Miss Kit, the dickins a bit
You’ll wheedle me now with your chat, ma’am:
My memory’s not very good,—but I’ll never forget that, ma’am!

Samuel Lover.