by John Vance Cheney
Constant mites that briskly whip
One measure over and over,
How like you are, a-harping there,
The larger sort of lover.
Scratch-scratch, scratch-scratch, all the night,
You twang it, brave and cheery;
One jerky stave, the whole night long,—
High the moon rides, high and clear,
The filling dewdrops glisten;
Thrum, plucky lovers! well I know
Your little ladies listen.
Stick to 't, wooers! So will I,
Nor ever slightest vary
The one sweet word of all the world,—
Last updated January 14, 2019