BLACK EYES
Reading edition
Long Molly Samways Went by just then. Strange, how that girl Gets off with the men! With her head wig-waggling On her long neck, And her hair straggling Down her back. Past ten of the clock She’ll get up in a daze, And spend the morning Lacing her stays. She wouldn’t go To the Whitsun Fair Because of the trouble Of getting there; And if she be common To half the town, ’Tis to please her back That she lies her down. Such a long, lazy Slug-a-bed Won’t have her sleep out Until she’s dead. And the Judgement Trump May split the skies— Though it should wake her I doubt if she’ll rise.