The Disturber

Oh, what shall I do? I am wholly upset;     I am sure I 'll be jailed for a lunatic yet.     I 'll be out of a job--it's the thing to expect     When I 'm letting my duty go by with neglect.     You may judge the extent and degree of my plight     When I 'm thinking all day and a-dreaming all night,     And a-trying my hand at a rhyme on the sly,     All on account of a sparkling eye.     There are those who say men should be strong, well-a-day!     But what constitutes strength in a man? Who shall say?     I am strong as the most when it comes to the arm.     I have aye held my own on the playground or farm.     And when I 've been tempted, I haven't been weak;     But now--why, I tremble to hear a maid speak.     I used to be bold, but now I 've grown shy,     And all on account of a sparkling eye.     There once was a time when my heart was devout,     But now my religion is open to doubt.     When parson is earnestly preaching of grace,     My fancy is busy with drawing a face,     Thro' the back of a bonnet most piously plain;     'I draw it, redraw it, and draw it again.'     While the songs and the sermon unheeded go by,--     All on account of a sparkling eye.     Oh, dear little conjurer, give o'er your wiles,     It is easy for you, you're all blushes and smiles:     But, love of my heart, I am sorely perplexed;     I am smiling one minute and sighing the next;     And if it goes on, I 'll drop hackle and flail,     And go to the parson and tell him my tale.     I warrant he 'll find me a cure for the sigh     That you 're aye bringing forth with the glance of your eye.