SONNET WROTE WHILST THINKIN’ OF MY SISTER MAYMIE’S HOMELY BEAU

O Love! ’Tis saidst that thou art blind. Alas! I didst not think that it wast truly so Until I saw my sister Maymie’s beau Who’s awful stingy and as green as grass! How love canst make such guys as he is pass For something beautiful, I dost not know. Hadst I my way, you bet! he’d stand no show Of settin’ in our parlor wastin’ gas. He steals things, too! Last night whilst in a nook Of our dark hall I heardst him say: “Alack! I must steal one!” This morn I went’st to look And found’st all our umbrellas in the rack, And so I guess whatever ’twast he took, My sister Maymie madest him give it back.