THE POOR RELATION.
I am a poor relation,
A dreadful plight to be in;
I'm looked upon as a bête-noir
By all my prosperous kin.
A dreadful plight to be in;
I'm looked upon as a bête-noir
By all my prosperous kin.
Whene'er we chance to meet,
No welcoming smiles I see;
Well do I know the frigid looks
That are in store for me.
No welcoming smiles I see;
Well do I know the frigid looks
That are in store for me.
A few there are who pay me
An occasional duty call,
But most of them wish to forget
That I exist at all.
An occasional duty call,
But most of them wish to forget
That I exist at all.
And on the street they give me
A freezing little nod,
While their spinal cord seems suddenly
Constructed like a rod.
A freezing little nod,
While their spinal cord seems suddenly
Constructed like a rod.
Or oftener it happens
They pretend preoccupation,
Though their self-conscious looks betray
They've seen their poor relation.
They pretend preoccupation,
Though their self-conscious looks betray
They've seen their poor relation.
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